


Plastic Daisies

by depozyt



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: (off screen and due to timeline fuckery), Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anal Sex, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Catholic Guilt, Families of Choice, Frottage, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Smut, Switching, a smidge of, side Xiuho - Freeform, voluntary missing persons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depozyt/pseuds/depozyt
Summary: The urge to disappear suddenly presented itself one day. There was nothing keeping him in this town, no person he cared for, no obligation he had to fulfill. Nothing. Baekhyun sold his car in exchange for cash the same day, put the two weeks’ notice on his boss’ desk, and started to gradually withdraw money from his bank account.He needed to start over.(Baekhyun only knew how to break old cycles by beginning new ones. As it turned out, Jongdae wasn't as different from him as he had first assumed.)
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39
Collections: Shall we Chen? Fictional Fest First Round





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt SWC006
> 
> Warnings! TWs - smoking, drinking, very minor references to drugs, unhealthy coping mechanisms, general mental health issues (mostly concerning self-esteem), the tiniest bit of catholic guilt, minor violence (baek punches a dude), grief/mourning
> 
> okay, with that out of the way i want to stress that this is NOT a realistic depiction of the 80s and 90s, it's just not. i've described this AU as "90s if Reagan presidency didn't happen", and honestly, it's probably even more romanticized than that. i don't know if even i like it, but i also don't think the general premise of Baekhyun's character here would work in any other setting, especially a modern one. ultimately, it's up to you, dear reader, to decide if you're willing to put up with this kind of depiction. also, i've never set a foot in Portland, sorry if it's not accurate!
> 
> there's some talk of religion (Catholicism to be specific) in brief bursts, but it's mostly used to paint a better picture of the characters, how they grew up and how it came to affect their worldview later in life. 
> 
> i want to thank my beta readers, i wouldn't finish this story without you... i can only hope you enjoyed working with me as much as i did with you.

The urge to disappear suddenly presented itself one day. There was nothing keeping him in this town, no person he cared for, no obligation he had to fulfill. Nothing. Baekhyun sold his car in exchange for cash the same day, put the two weeks’ notice on his boss’ desk, and started to gradually withdraw money from his bank account.

No one could stop him, no one besides him knew what he was doing, no one suspected a thing. When the awaited day came, he gathered all his documents, put them in a binder, took only the necessities with him, and drove away. 

He wasn't one to pull stunts like these. He graduated with honors, had a respectable job, a good salary, and lived in a decent apartment. A life some people could only wish for but never achieve. Yet, Baekhyun was immensely bored with his life. 

The world around him was bland and shallow, he wanted something more, a little variety in his routine. Some people tried yoga, others took drugs or gave casual sex a chance. Baekhyun wasn't into any of these things. Alcohol made him depressed, same with molly, and sex without emotional attachment was unfulfilling and impersonal. 

He needed to start over.

Starting with a blank slate in a small town where no one knew his name sounded amazing. He wasn't born as  _ Baekhyun _ , but it didn't matter much,  but it didn't matter much, now that he'd had his new documents issued . He was now a practicing Catholic, a painter who liked whiskey on the rocks and didn't smoke, someone who had always wanted to meet that special someone, only to grow old with them. 

He had bought a prayer medal to wear under his shirt as he got used to his new reality. His new identity sounded believable, someone like this could potentially exist, and while it wasn't  _ him,  _ it was close enough. Baekhyun had always loved to paint, as every piece of furniture in his old apartment had witnessed. He had managed to cover every chair, counter, table or cupboard with either a beautiful landscape or a portrait. Baekhyun’s favorite being a greyscale portrait of his mother, which he’d then situated on one of the chairs. It was immature, borderline disrespectful too, but it always made him giggle when he sat on that chair. He could literally tell her to kiss his ass. It was flippant but brought him relief.

Baekhyun had never gone to art school, if you didn't count that one semester, but he knew he was made for it. He didn't think of himself as particularly good, but he was decent enough. Painting was one of the few things that made him happy. He was certainly a better painter than a lawyer. Law school wasn't for him, but his parents thought it would so he obliged, hoping he could fulfill his dreams on his own terms later.

He was only halfway through to the nice town in Alaska he chose as his destination when he had gotten hungry along the way. He chewed on his quarter pounder as he reminisced about them, finally free of his fitness coach who wouldn't let him touch, let alone eat such a thing. His parents were two respectable people who just wanted to raise another  _ respectable _ person, and they wouldn't stop at anything to achieve such a goal. 

Baekhyun had tried to understand them but even now, years later, there was that youthful rage burning under his skin. It was unfair, he had never wanted any of this. 

He cried in his car that day, shedding tears for something that shouldn't matter after all this time. And yet, it did, it absolutely did. He was full of anger he couldn't direct at anyone but himself. Baekhyun kicked the trashcan in the McDonald's parking lot, wailing in pain mere seconds later. He was an adult now, he could make decisions for himself. But he felt like a teenager running away.

Baekhyun drove away, he still had another few hours of travel before him. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

The man at the reception desk at the  _ In Rainbows _ motel looked like he wanted to disappear himself. But Baekhyun didn't pay much attention to him, he was entirely focused on the painting hanging on the wall behind him. 

It was something he had always wanted to paint, a realistic portrait with a dreamy quality to it, absolutely beautiful. He stood there, unable to take his eyes off of the man depicted on it, his melancholic expression immortalized on the canvas. The varnish gave his skin a yellow tint; it must've been painted a few years back.

"It's haunted," the receptionist said, sounding bored of telling this to everyone. 

"What?" 

"I said the painting's haunted. People are saying that if you look at it for too long, you're going to have bad luck." 

Baekhyun snorted. "I don't believe in stuff like that." 

The receptionist shrugged and handed him the key to his room. "I'm just repeating what the people say."

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun threw himself onto the bed face first, which in hindsight was a mistake. He could taste the dust from the old cushion on his tongue. He stuck it out and ran to his bag to get the toothbrush. 

When he finally reached the bathroom just the sheer look of disgust he saw on this face in the mirror made him laugh for the first time in days. Baekhyun was a mess but he embraced it. He brushed his teeth, put on comfortable shoes, and went to the motel bar.

The inside wasn't particularly crowded, maybe five or six different people sat by the tables. Baekhyun chose a stool by the bar close to the old Zenith TV playing in the background.

Someone joined him just as he was about to order his drink.

"What year is it for you?" the man asked, his eyes focused entirely on Baekhyun. A very weird question but he didn't think much of it. Baekhyun was tired and used to, probably, drunk people asking him about random stuff. He had worked at a pub in college after all.

When talking to wasted men, it was important to remain disinterested, maybe even dismissive, and they usually gave up after a few minutes.

"’95?"

He laughed. "I wouldn’t believe you, but you totally look like you stepped out of the ‘90s without context." 

Baekhyun measured him up. He was wearing a faded-green sweater with earthy-brown pants to match, and his hair was neatly cut and styled, the dark brown bringing out his eyes. He was certainly older than Baekhyun, in his fifties maybe, the wrinkles around his eyes documenting every smile in his life thus far. 

"What's your name?" 

"Jongdae."

"Why are you here, Jongdae?" Baekhyun asked, preparing himself for the strangest answer possible.

Jongdae shrugged, weariness visible throughout his posture. "I wanted to see you again." He took his time studying Baekhyun's face, looking at him with fondness and sadness that seemed somehow distant. Like whatever caused it couldn't be let go.

"Do we know each other?" Baekhyun wanted him to clarify. If they did, his plan was ruined, he would have to start over.

"Not yet I think, we won't meet until—well, now I guess. Quarter to ten, if I remember right," he said looking at his wristwatch and drinking his glass of wine at once. Jongdae stood up from his stool next to Baekhyun only to return a moment later.

Except it wasn't him,  _ no _ , it was someone who looked like a younger version of him, dressed in completely different clothes. Baekhyun furrowed his brows, he hadn’t even drunk anything at that point. 

"Two beers!" the man shouted at the bartender. "For me and my new best friend, you hear that Minseok! I'm making friends! Without you!" he screamed at the hysterically laughing man sitting across the bar. 

"If you say so!" 

The bartender put the two tall glasses before them. "On the house."

"Thank you, Sehun. I'll cover for you on Wednesday," the younger version of Jongdae said. Sehun ignored him and started preparing a cocktail for another customer.

"Do you have a brother or something?" Baekhyun asked, confused beyond belief. What was happening? What did this man want from him? 

"That asshole over there," he said, putting his arm around Baekhyun and pointing at the previously laughing man, "is like a brother to me. But besides that? No, I'm an only child. Why are you asking?"

Baekhyun started to question his sanity. He was sure he had seen,  _ talked,  _ to Jongdae just mere seconds before, and yet the man was acting like that didn’t happen.  _ Weird _ . He took a sip of his beer.

“Someone very similar to you talked with me before you showed up,” he answered honestly.

“Not possible, babe, I’m one and only in this shithole,” he said showing off his straight teeth in a grin.

Baekhyun shrugged. “Why are you talking to me anyway?”

“You’re cute, look very lonely and  _ apparently _ I need to open up—try to meet new people.  _ Apparently  _ I’m too introverted and that’s coming from Minseok, a fellow introvert who hasn't talked to anyone besides his fiance for two days,” he said and chugged half a glass of beer; maybe he needed the alcohol to uphold his bubbly facade. 

“You don’t strike me as an introvert.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m gonna hide in my room for two days after this conversation’s over. But since I’m still brave, tell me, what’s a guy like you doing in Fairview?” Jongdae tilted his head, still not breaking eye contact with Baekhyun.

_ Trying to disappear.  _ “Just passing by.”

“So you’re leaving soon?”

Baekhyun chuckled. “If you give me a reason to stay, maybe I will,” he flirted. Jongdae was pretty; exactly his type with a small frame and eyes that turned into crescents when he smiled. Maybe something fun could come out of this. 

Jongdae looked like he got struck by lightning. “Okay—right—it’s gonna sound insane, but give me one—two days and I'll make you want to stay." He took Baekhyun's hands in between his. "I swear I'm not a serial killer, a mob boss, or a pimp. I'm just an idiot who thinks you're beautiful."

Baekhyun drank his beer and, in a burst of confidence, cupped Jongdae's jaw, his hand brushing over the spot he must’ve forgotten to shave. He tasted like cheap alcohol but kissed good enough to make Baekhyun's heart quicken. It was quick, somewhat clumsy but also tender, and that was all that mattered. Jongdae looked at him surprised like he didn't anticipate his plan was going to work this well. 

"Sealed with a kiss. You have 48 hours, starting from,” Baekhyun said, his eyes shifting to check the time on TV, “quarter to ten."

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"I'm still not fully convinced you aren't a serial killer," Baekhyun remarked when they left the bar to do  _ something.  _ Jongdae didn't tell him where they were going and he was too amused by the whole situation to bother himself with asking. 

"Excuse you, I used to be an altar boy. I'm literally holier-than-thou. Besides, for all I know, you might want to bury  _ my _ dead body in the woods." 

"I mean, you'd stop talking, that's a plus. But I think you look prettier alive than you'd do as a corpse. Which in that case, sorry if I’m not your dream, one-night stand," Baekhyun joked. 

"One-night stand?" 

"Technically, even in the worst scenario, you could potentially be a two-night stand! I'm certainly not against the idea." Baekhyun smiled at him. Jongdae reciprocated but it seemed somehow empty like he didn’t really mean it.

"Tell me, where are you taking me?" Baekhyun asked, trying to change the topic. They’d reached the middle of an almost empty Target parking lot, the asphalt under their feet still wet from the drizzle.

Baekhyun admired the way it reflected the light cast by the streetlamps, bright yellow fading into reds and pinks illuminated by various shop signs. It was quite warm for November that year, he felt that his raincoat was too thick for the humid and mild climate, he unbuttoned it.

“Well...here, I guess," Jongdae said, unfolding his arms. "Look up." 

And so Baekhyun did. The sky was dotted with stars, filled with constellations he could have named years ago, but now it'd been so long he couldn't recall a single one. Amidst them, there was something else, a quick streak of colorful light. Bright yellow turning blue. Then another one as well as several others next.

"Today's a meteor shower. The media called it 'unicorn'," he chuckled. "I'm surprised you didn't catch on earlier." 

Baekhyun hadn't been the most perceptive in the past few weeks—months, whatever. But he wished he had because he’d almost missed something so breathtaking. If not for Jongdae, he'd be asleep by now or in someone else's motel room.

"Thank you," he said after standing in the parking lot without uttering a single word for minutes on end, endlessly fascinated by the strange cosmic race happening before him. He was busy doing the meteor version of raindrop races. Baekhyun would pick a favorite and root for it to be faster than the one next to it. It was silly, but somehow comforting too, to watch these beautiful things disappear. 

"Don't mention it, I'm glad you could see it with me."

They stood there for another twenty minutes or so, Baekhyun’s arms tight around Jongdae, embracing him from the back, enjoying the spectacle in the November drizzle. It made Baekhyun appreciate meeting Jongdae because even if nothing were to come out of it, he was always going to have this lovely memory with him. Them, alone, watching tens of meteors pass the sky every minute. He didn't feel like he had to constantly entertain Jongdae, he could just be quiet and a bit somber. 

“Let’s watch this meteor shower again, whenever it happens,” Baekhyun said, starting to walk back to the motel. “Promise me, Jongdae, that you’ll be here the next time too.”

“This our second promise today,” he said. “Isn’t it a bit too much?”

Baekhyun laughed; that didn’t matter to him. “You’re just saying that because you’re the Zodiac killer and you’re afraid you’re going to get caught soon! You see, I have it all figured out!” he sang-song, deliberately making the mood drastically shift. Baekhyun was tired of his own moodiness, he couldn’t let Jongdae think of him as this wistful, quiet guy. He just had met him at a strange time in his life, that was all there was to it. 

Jongdae clicked his tongue. “Wasn’t he active in the late sixties? I was born back then! A baby can't be a serial killer!”

“What date?”

“September twenty-first, 1969?”

“Hah, I’m older than you! May sixth, the same year.” Baekhyun smiled, proud of himself.

“Was this accusation a ploy to learn my birthday?” Jongdae scratched his head.

“Maybe. I might tell you if you promise to meet me, here in Fairview, whenever the ‘unicorn’ shower happens again.”

“You know, this happens every year, right? You want to meet  _ me  _ here next year?” Jongdae asked, sounding confused.

“Yes,” Baekhyun answered without hesitation.

“Then, it’s a date.”

Jongdae stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and cupped Baekhyun’s jaw. The kiss was longer this time, still delicate, somewhat unsure, with both of them only just now learning their bodies, memorizing the way they reacted. But there was intent to it—it wasn’t a meaningless kiss with a stranger, something done only for fun. Baekhyun was tired of relationships like that, he longed for a different kind of experience.

“Sealed with a kiss,” Jongdae said this time when they drew apart, his eyes still lingering on Baekhyun’s mouth. 

They bought wine at the already closing 7-Eleven and went back to the motel. Baekhyun didn’t remember to look back at the supposedly haunted painting hanging in the lobby, too busy trying to sneak another kiss. He finally managed to complete his mission when they reached his room. He pretended to look for his key exceptionally long, carefully checking every pocket in his coat, even the ones hidden in the lining. When Jongdae finally looked worried enough, Baekhyun started to feel just a bit remorseful for his little prank, so he pulled the key, swiftly unlocked the door, turned around, and gave him a light peck on the lips, barely enough for their mouths to touch. 

“This was mean,” Jongdae muttered. “Don’t do that.” He pouted.

“But you’re cute and easy to prank,” he laughed stepping into his room. Baekhyun carefully put his bag down and launched himself onto the bed, this time onto his side. “Bring out the corkscrew, Dae! We’re having a party.” He watched as Jongdae’s eyes lit up while looking at him.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"Aren't you afraid that you're going to wake up one day, ashamed of everything you've done and who you've become?" Baekhyun asked, putting his head on Jongdae's shoulder.

He reached out for the wine glass standing on the nightstand, knowing damn well that he’d had enough if he was asking questions like these. Forced positivity only worked for Baekhyun up until a point, usually until he got drunk or sad enough. Fake it till you make it was never a viable option for him. He looked at the TV, at the black and white movie playing in the background. He didn’t even register when it had begun. 

"Not really? I mean—maybe, but not to the degree you seem to be." Jongdae answered, his speech way less slurred than Baekhyun’s—someone had to be the responsible one. 

Baekhyun chuckled. "How?"

"I think you're just too self-aware? Self-reflection isn't bad, sometimes it's needed, but there's a line between being self-aware and self-conscious," Jongdae said. "I think you crossed it long ago."

"It sounds like you're speaking from experience," Baekhyun pointed out.

Jongdae got quiet for a few seconds. "Yeah, I guess I am. You know why I approached you? Because Minseok said that you were cute and—let’s just say I have a history of falling in love with people who end up choosing him instead of me," Jongdae said, the sentence followed by a bitter chuckle.

Baekhyun wished he hadn’t said it. But he was too drunk to understand why the statement made him upset. Maybe he was reading too much into it. That was probably it. 

“He doesn’t do it on purpose, does he?” Minseok didn’t sound like he would, but it was important to clarify. 

“God, no, he would never. He’s too empathetic, which is why I could never tell him about this. It feels wrong to even imagine. I just—I don’t know, I live with this constant feeling that I’m never good enough for people. And I think you can relate.”

Baekhyun could.

“For whatever comes out of this—just know that you are enough for me,” he said and drank his glass of wine in one swig. He should stop doing it, tomorrow he’s probably going to wake up with a hangover, not able to remember most of this conversation with a perfect stranger in suburban Oregon. Jongdae deserved better than this.

“That’s why he urges me to  _ open up _ —get out of my shell, you know? I just can’t bring myself to tell him that I had feelings for some of his past partners, including his current fiance—Junmyeon. God, I’m a terrible friend,” he said, his voice low. 

Baekhyun didn’t know what to say, it was none of his business, he didn’t know these people and the specific circumstances that led to this situation, he still felt bad for Jongdae. He was jealous, but he was also ashamed of it. Baekhyun couldn’t imagine the shame. 

“But you didn’t act on it, right?”

“No, I could never.”

“Then why are you beating yourself up over it?” Baekhyun asked, making Jongdae shift on the bed, a silver cross peeking from under his button-up. Oh—that explained some of it. “Were your parents really religious?” he followed-up, taking the piece of jewelry into his hand, turning it around a few times and admiring the way it reflected light. 

Jongdae laughed. “Like any two good Catholics, they raised me only ever serving fish on Friday and pretending it’s not meat, so to answer your question—yes. What about you?” he pointed at Baekhyun’s gilded medal. Fuck.

He didn’t want to lie, Jongdae deserved better. “It’s my grandma’s, she—uhm—she converted in the last few years of her life,” he lied, feeling guilty already. “I don’t know much about it so don’t quiz me on who’s the pope,” Baekhyun chuckled trying to change the subject. 

“John Paul II.”

“See! I didn’t know that! I thought he was dead.” 

“He’s not,” Jongdae giggled.

“Good for him!” Baekhyun looked into Jongdae’s eyes and his useless drunk brain suggested to him that maybe it was the right time to kiss him again. It was not. Instead, he embraced Jongdae, putting his head on his shoulder. “Don’t feel guilty for something you didn’t do, Dae. You don’t have to go all ‘ _ through my fault I have sinned’  _ on yourself, it’s alright.”

“ _ Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa,”  _ Jongdae laughed, tightening his arms around him. “I know—I rationally know it, but the Church had been such a huge part of my life when I was younger. I sometimes automatically default to this kind of thinking, it’s so ingrained in me.”

Baekhyun inhaled deeply, the smell of Jongdae’s cheap cologne assaulting his senses. “Do you want to pick at an old scab and tell me about Minseok’s fiance?”

“That’s what I do best, baby!” Jongdae declared. “Picking at healed wounds is my favorite pastime!” He parted from Baekhyun, laying his head on the pillow next to him. "Right, so imagine you're sixteen—"

"Please don't remind me about this painful time, I had a mullet." 

"Why?" Jongdae laughed, instantaneously looking much younger and happier. 

"I was absolutely obsessed with David Bowie, you can't even imagine. The girls fawning over NKOTB? They’ve got nothing on me, sweetheart. Imagine a whole room plastered with his posters, from the floor to the ceiling, that was my room till I moved out for college. How my parents didn't know I wasn't straight is beyond me," Baekhyun said, trying his best to lift up the mood. 

"Was your mullet orange?" Jongdae stopped his giggling to ask.

"No—"

"That's something."

“—it was red-ish? I had my friend bleach my hair and I guess our kool-aid hair coloring method wasn’t that professional,” Baekhyun laughed at the memory. “Please continue your story, we can talk about my bad hair choices another time.”

Jongdae's expression changed. “I think you mean fabulous hair choices, you need to show me pictures. Right, imagine you’re sixteen, you don’t have a mullet, and there’s this cute, punk sophomore at your high school, his name’s Junmyeon. You, being the baby gay that you are, are swept off your feet and crushing on him,  _ hard _ , but you never do much with it. You’re too afraid of your parents’ reaction, of being out at school, you know. 

“He’s interested in you at first but sees that you have your own stuff to process, it never goes further than a kiss. The years pass, you graduate, go to college, get your bachelor’s degree, don’t really keep in contact and then you meet him by accident. Your best friend is single, looking for some fun. You introduce them, they hit it off, a year and a half later they get engaged, that day, you realize you’ve never really gotten over him,” Jongdae concluded his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get used to vague radiohead references, i couldn't stop myself


	2. Chapter 2

Baekhyun woke up without his pants on. A normal thing most days. Who has the time to change into pajama pants? Certainly not him. But yesterday—technically today—he fell asleep next to Jongdae. Did he try to pull a stunt yesterday? 

He was pretty drunk, and while he had a general tendency to burst into tears while under the influence, not to force himself on people, he couldn't remember a lot of what had happened after Jongdae mentioned Junmyeon. 

Baekhyun looked around the room; Jongdae wasn't there, but his coat was. He took a deep breath, he must have gone to the bathroom or to the cafeteria to get some breakfast. People eat, Baekhyun, not everything happens because you screwed something up, not everything is so personal.

He got up, brushed his teeth and as he was about to go look for Jongdae, he came in through the door.

Baekhyun beamed at him, well, technically at the plate of pancakes he was holding but those were unimportant details. “Thank you.”

They made small talk, mostly about what they were going to do that day, Baekhyun suggested going to the movies, but Jongdae just looked at him with mischief in his eyes. Baekhyun pretended he hadn’t noticed it.

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” he asked.

“No, don’t tell me—no,” Baekhyun said as he watched Jongdae’s eyes light up.

“Minseok let me borrow his Honda Blackbird. I can drive it, I have the gear and everything.”

“What’s our destination?” Baekhyun asked, already excited.

“I have the best-worst idea for a road trip and you’re either going to love me after, I tell you, or our relationship is doomed. There are no in-betweens here, Baekhyun,” he laughed.

“I have a question, not concerning your road trip idea.” Baekhyun shoved a piece of pancake into his mouth, maple syrup dripping down his chin. “Why don’t I have my pants on?”

“Oh, I mean—I’m pretty sure you took them off before going to sleep? I didn’t pay attention to that.”

Baekhyun felt instantaneous relief, he wasn't screwed, Jongdae didn't hate him. He didn't know why he would, frankly, Baekhyun deep down knew that his anxiety was lying to him and Jongdae was very understanding. Still, that, in turn, made him feel guilty that he’d even accuse Jongdae of such behavior in his mind. It was an unending loop of misery as well as flawed logic built on gut reactions without proof or even a way to prove them. 

“Good, I—that’s very good,” he said as he watched Jongdae put his motorcycle gear on the bed.

“Get ready.” He smiled at Baekhyun making all his fears melt away for now.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

It was unfair how good Jongdae looked in a leather jacket—totally and utterly unfair. Baekhyun pondered about that as he chewed on a sandwich. How was he supposed to concentrate on anything besides Jongdae in these conditions? Baekhyun laid his head on Jongdae’s shoulder, they were sitting in a 7-Eleven parking lot, eating their lunch in the rare November sun before they hit the road again. 

“Guess the theme,” he said out of the blue.

Baekhyun blinked in surprise. "What theme?"

“Of our road trip?” Jongdae laconically elaborated.

Oh, right, there was supposed to be a theme. Baekhyun was too busy being terrified of riding a motorcycle, in the back seat nonetheless, for the first time in years to notice anything. “There’s a lot of pines here?”

“ _Douglas fir_ to be exact, it’s Oregon’s state tree,” he said looking proud to know such trivia.

“Okay, so you’re a tree enthusiast too, cool, cool, can you tell me the the—The fucking bridges,” Baekhyun laughed, the realization hitting him. “We’ve passed so many bridges! This is the worst road trip theme ever. I’m so proud of you!” He looked at Jongdae, his sandwich forgotten.

“I’m so glad you caught on, I was getting scared I would have to explain the joke and it wouldn’t be as funny as it was in my head.”

“Oh, it’s very absurd, that’s for sure, but I’m liking the bridges we pass? I won’t be mad if we see other ones?” Baekhyun didn’t know what to say. “Is there a destination you have in mind?”

“It depends whether you’re one of those people who like going to art museums? We’re taking a very roundabout road to Portland. And by that I mean we could’ve reached it in about twenty minutes but I wanted to show you the ridiculous amount of bridges we have here. So yeah, does the Portland Art Museum sound good to you?”

Baekhyun squealed in excitement. “Dude, I love to paint, I went to art school for a while. Of course, it sounds good to me! They have Monet there!”

Jongdae looked very pleased with himself. “Then it’s set.” 

Baekhyun couldn’t remember the last time he was this close with someone for, frankly, any amount of time, he really couldn’t. He wasn't the type to date people, not in the past few years at least. If he wanted intimacy he’d pick up someone, man or woman, it didn’t matter, at a club and probably never see them again. He wasn’t heartless; he didn’t mind dating, but it was also very obvious that he was afraid of commitment. 

People called him elusive, he rarely picked up his private phone or called back, always changed the bars he frequented, the people he hung out with. It was easy to drift apart from him, to talk to him once and promptly forget about it. He felt like a ghost, or maybe like a migrating bird, never staying in one place for too long. Settling down, committing to someone or something required courage as well as stability he didn’t have. 

Baekhyun was terrified of life, of people, of expectations, of waiting for the future to finally happen and become the present, making all his anxieties wash away. Qualities like these made it easy for him to run away, to drop everything in order to start his life anew. Whether he was actually capable of that was a different case. 

He’d known Jongdae for less than 24 hours and he still felt closer to him than some of the people he had called friends. It was eerie. 

Baekhyun tightened the grip on Jongdae’s waist, deciding to enjoy the ride, there was no point in psychoanalyzing himself right now. 

Jongdae didn’t have enough cash to pay for the gas at the gas station they had to make a stop at in Portland. Baekhyun threw condoms and a pack of bubble gum on the counter. He knew that he had crossed a line with the joke the moment Jongdae didn’t reciprocate his smile. 

“Let me,” he said, handing the cashier the appropriate amount.

Jongdae looked like he wanted to drive away without Baekhyun and leave him to his own devices in the middle of this city.

“That poor cashier will think I’m whoring myself out for a twenty,” he laughed trying to mask his embarrassment as they walked away from the gas station.

“Come on, don’t tell me you wouldn’t with me.” Baekhyun felt greasy just saying that. It was a mistake to open his mouth. This time he laughed awkwardly. “Besides, that’s the most entertaining thing that’s going to happen to him today."

“Thank you,” Jongdae said suddenly.

“For what?”

“For the gas."

That wasn't his paranoia, Baekhyun fucked up.

"Don't mention it, you're driving me around after all," he said, not really understanding why Jongdae felt compelled to say such a thing. They were… friends. Maybe friends in the making, but it didn't change anything in Baekhyun's eyes. "Please, don't feel obligated to thank me. I'm sorry, I was an ass and made you uncomfortable. It's not an excuse but I'm used to this kind of raunchy humor from work, it sometimes comes out of me and I feel disgusted with myself. I don't want to be that guy who makes everyone uncomfortable," he rambled.

Jongdae stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, looking right at him. "Baekhyun, you're not that guy, they don't apologize voluntarily. Or at all," he chuckled, probably thinking about a specific person. "This is what I meant when I said you're self-aware, Baek. You see how you make people feel, but you probably exaggerate it in your head and fill in the gaps. People are complicated, no one will act, think or feel exactly how you imagine them to." 

Baekhyun felt like Jongdae was his voice of reason, like he grew up listening to songs sung out of tune only to finally hear the correct pitch. 

"You don't hate me," he said after a moment of silence.

"Why would I? You said a dumb joke and immediately apologized for it—with your tail between your legs nonetheless." He shrugged, smiling at him. "Come on, you have a Monet painting to see." Jongdae grabbed his hand and dragged him in _some_ direction, probably the museum.

"There's five of them!" Baekhyun exclaimed when they reached their destination. His reaction caused by a big poster on the side of the building announcing the exposition. He was beyond delighted. “Five!”

“I can read,” Jongdae laughed. “My Catholic school had it in the curriculum, can’t say the same about the theory of evolution. ”

Baekhyun ignored the sass and rushed to pay for the tickets.

Museums always felt like stepping into another dimension to him, maybe because you weren’t meant to stay there for too long, but Baekhyun always wanted to do that, to spend his life surrounded by art. That was the reason he decorated his last apartment the way he did, he wanted to feel enclosed by the things he considered beautiful.

As they strolled through the museum corridors, plain walls contrasted with colorful paintings, Baekhyun once again took Jongdae’s hand to show him something. 

“Do you even know where you’re taking us?” he asked cryptically. 

“You could’ve asked this question in any context and the answer would stay the same no matter what. No, I don’t, I’m just here for the ride,” Baekhyun smiled at Jongdae. “Want to be that obnoxious couple that makes out in the middle of the path?” Baekhyun tried to dare him.

“We can be that obnoxious couple that makes out in a bathroom? Or next to the most boring painting?”

“Deal, I’ll be on the lookout for that.” Baekhyun smiled.

However, he wasn’t able to fulfill his plan because while looking for a painting that suited those qualities, he’d found the one he’d come here for. 

Monet’s _Water Lilies_ series was one of the most significant paintings in Baekhyun’s life, maybe not his favorite (he was sure such a thing would be impossible to choose for him), but they were definitely important. He’d seen some of them for the first time in a high school art textbook in the impressionist chapter. 

The series consists of around 250 paintings, all of them depicting Monet's beloved garden in the last 30 years of his life. Baekhyun loved their color scheme—varied green hues, occasionally intertwined with blue, white or pink. It seemed unreal, taken out of a different world. Even when standing before the small works, he felt he could see his reflection in the water like just any minute the sun would shine just right for him to catch a glimpse of his face.

Momentary beauty encapsulated with paint and one person’s skillful hands.

Baekhyun stood before the large canvas, rocking on the balls of his feet and studying every brush stroke. Jongdae tapped him on the shoulder.

“Can you tell me something about it?” he asked.

Baekhyun nodded. “Monet started to paint the _Water Lilies_ series after his wife and son had already died. All the paintings actually depict a pond next to his house, he was slowly going blind while finishing them over the years, his cataracts progressing,” Baekhyun said, remembering the facts he read in the textbook.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jongdae chuckled. “What do you like about it? I want to know that.”

Baekhyun always felt weird when others showed interest in him as a person. What was he supposed to say? “Right, I mean—it’s very dreamlike, layered like you could actually put your hand in the water, smell the flowers, touch the leaves, visit this garden. It’s the kind of landscape I wish I could paint, something the viewer automatically knows is deeply personal to the artist. Some people take photos, others write to capture the little moments in life. I’ve always painted, drawn on my hands, on my homework, doodled on the tests, I always tried to understand myself by… creating. That's what it makes me think about, coping with reality by creating something beautiful.”

Jongdae nodded. ”You’re an artist, right?”

“You could call it that.”

Baekhyun could never call himself that, the words would get stuck in his throat, unable to reach his tongue.

“Are you planning on doing something in Portland? Going to school here, working on some project?” Jongdae asked sipping on his coffee bought in the museum cafe after they left the exhibition.

Baekhyun blinked in surprise and tasted his coffee, right, he’d told him that he was only passing through Fairview, of course Jongdae assumed he was headed to Portland. There was no way for him to deduce that Baekhyun’s destination was the fucking state of Alaska. 

“I—yes?”

“If you ever want to see me again, I’m going to be moving here in a few weeks. I don’t know, give me a call or something?” he said nonchalantly, giving Baekhyun the kind of look that implied it took a lot of courage for him to actually voice it.

“And how am I gonna find you, huh? Go to a psychic and say that I met this really cute Korean guy, I think his last name is Kim—I don’t know—he might be a serial killer, I’m not sure. Could you, like, give me his number or something?” Baekhyun tried his best to put on his best Valley Girl accent. He failed,interrupting himself with laughter.

Jongdae snorted his coffee. “I mean, you're on point with the last name.”

"Listen, there's like three most probable options and if it's none of them, then there's no point in guessing.” He shrugged. 

“Is _your_ last name Kim?” Jongdae asked.

“No, I’m one of those cases where it’s pointless to guess. Would you be able to come up with _Byun_ on your first try? I don’t think so.”

Baekhyun didn’t change his last name, it was the one he was born with. The first name he’d chosen was actually the one his mom originally wanted for him, so it wasn’t really _fake_ or something he came up with. He’d have been called that if not for his dad’s disapproval. 

“Probably not,” Jongdae chuckled. “But now _I_ can go to the psychic and find you, checkmate.”

Baekhyun laughed at the irony of that statement.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Jongdae let him into his new apartment. The walls were still white and bare, the rare furniture untouched and lonely, the windowsills devoid of green plants. Baekhyun immediately felt the urge to mark this place, fill it with patterns and hues like one would do with a coloring book.

“Now you won’t have to ask around for my address.” He smiled at Baekhyun so sincerely, he couldn’t help but kiss it off his lips.

Jongdae persistently tried to switch on the light, hand exploring the wall behind them. Baekhyun made it his goal to render it as difficult as possible for him. He marked Jongdae’s throat, bit his lower lip, whispered promises into his ear. But Jongdae managed to succeed despite the obstacles thrown his way, making the hallway lamp illuminate their surroundings.

“What makes you think I would go looking for you?" Baekhyun playfully asked.

"It's wishful thinking, I guess. Nothing wrong with that."

Baekhyun chuckled to himself. 

His plans to decorate Jongdae’s apartment were, as it turned out, compromised by the simple fact that most people don’t have a lot of paint on them.

“Not even yellow?” Baekhyun asked as he sketched a design on the living room wall with what seemed like an ancient… masonry pencil. He took Jongdae’s word that it was the correct name for the tool and stopped himself from making any Illuminati jokes. 

“Believe me or not, but I didn’t plan on you showing up and changing my interior design vision,” Jongdae laughed as he handed him a can with the most boring beige paint.

“I have questions.” Baekhyun looked at it with disgust. 

“I wanted something safe so my mom wouldn’t complain.”

“You have to take risks in life! Live a little! Paint your accent wall a weird color! Maybe red, I don’t know!” Baekhyun laughed. Walking into an empty apartment always felt surreal for him since it was such a temporary state. Walls shouldn’t be bare, rooms and closets empty, it unnerved him and he wanted to change it. 

Jongdae sat down on the mattress laying on the floor, he still hadn’t moved all his furniture so this was all he had at the moment instead of a bed or a couch. “Tomorrow maybe? It’s too late today anyway.”

Baekhyun joined him on the mattress, leaving the can of paint on the floor. “Is there anything you want to do today?” he asked tilting his head, intently looking into Jongdae’s eyes. He had one goal and it was to either embarrass him or to encourage him to take action. 

“Right, there’s no point in avoiding it,” he said, making Baekhyun’s stomach drop. _Did he do something wrong?_ “Rock, paper, scissors, the winner gets to top.”

Baekhyun burst into laughter, his back hitting the wall behind him. “This is certainly one way to go about it,” he said, trying to catch a breath. 

“Listen, _you’re_ not the subtlest man on Earth either.”

Fair point, but Baekhyun never claimed that. “On three.” He drew rock, Jongdae scissors, and that only made him start laughing again. Baekhyun smirked at him and cupped Jongdae’s jaw in his typical fashion, drawing him closer, only barely brushing their lips, and waiting for the other man to make a move. 

Jongdae didn’t last very long, patience wearing thin after a whole day of Baekhyun teasing him. 

Baekhyun pinned him under his weight on the mattress, gilded medal dangling from his neck, reminding him about the new identity he’d decided to assume. He kissed Jongdae, fisting his short hair and feeling his chapped lips clash with his own. It felt different, nothing about their movements, moans or gasps was mechanical, sterile or boring. It was nothing like the sex he had in the last few months, devoid of emotion.

Baekhyun felt _alive_ for the first time in a while as he unbuttoned Jongdae’s shirt, carefully kissing every inch of revealed skin. He was going to make Jongdae his masterpiece with pink and purple bruises blooming on his chest, creating the most stunning garden of love. Jongdae reached into Baekhyun’s pocket for a condom as well as a packet of lube. 

“I fucking knew it,” he laughed.

“You need to be prepared at all times. It’s our responsibility to practice safe sex,” Baekhyun laughed imagining he was his high school sex ed teacher saying this before the whole class. Sometimes he missed Mr. Lee.

“You don’t need to flex your adequate sex education on me. I went to Catholic school, I didn’t know how periods worked until my college roommate explained them to me. I was nineteen, very gay and very embarrassed,” he chuckled.

It was offhand comments like these that made Baekhyun wonder just how much shit Jongdae had to go through, how hard it must have been for him. He wished he could make him forget about that even for a moment. Baekhyun helped him take off his pants and underwear, mouthing at his already half-hard cock. 

He poured the lube on his fingers to warm it up.

“Come on, don’t make me wait,” Jongdae whined. 

“That’s exactly the opposite of what you should say if you don’t want me to draw it out,” Baekhyun chuckled as he inserted the first finger, making Jongdae gasp. “Too rough?” he asked, concerned.

“No, no, it’s just been a while. Believe me or not, I usually top.”

“Oh, I believe you, no one else but a true top would have suggested the ultimate test to determine dominance that is the game of rock, paper, scissors. Next time we can play Uno,” Baekhyun said and got to experience the weird sensation that comes with making someone laugh when you’re fingering them.

He started moving a bit faster now, trying to make Jongdae as comfortable as possible before they proceeded any further

Jongdae glanced down at him. “Fuck, you have pretty hands.”

“And yours are very cute,” he told him intertwining his left hand with Jongdae’s right and squeezing it as he inserted the second finger, drawing the most beautiful moan from Jongdae’s mouth. Pride resonated in Baekhyun’s chest; it was easy to forget how amazing it felt to make someone feel good. One day he wanted to make Jongdae come like this, to see his face as he curls up his fingers while slowly moving them in and out of him as he screams in pleasure. But neither of them had the patience or self-control for that. Not now, at least.

Baekhyun continued like that for a while, fingering Jongdae at an unhurried pace, kissing his neck to distract him from any discomfort. By the time Baekhyun was filling him in with three of his fingers, Jongdae was whining for him to stop and finally fuck him. As he helped Baekhyun put on a condom, he smiled at the other man. 

"What?" Baekhyun asked.

"I don't know, I'm just glad we met."

"Are you always this corny before getting fucked?" Baekhyun teased him by pushing just the tip of his cock. Jongdae whimpered in frustration. Baekhyun sunk deeper into him.

"Are you always this annoying before fucking someone?" Despite having half a dick up his ass, Jongdae was as witty as ever. Not that Baekhyun would've anticipated otherwise. 

"Only with you, baby." He thrusted half-heartedly, letting Jongdae get used to the stretch.

Their hands were still intertwined and Baekhyun felt the need to give Jongdae a reassuring squeeze before thrusting again, this time with a bit more force.

"Please, for the love of God, just fuck me," Jongdae whined making Baekhyun chuckle. 

"Is this really the time to say the Lord’s name in vain?" he asked as he tried to set a slow pace to continue slowly torturing Jongdae. He wanted to wreck him. 

"I don't care, I really don't fucking care, just please, please, don't stop."

Baekhyun wouldn't dare disregard his plea.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️ 

"Do you have any other plans for today?" Baekhyun asked as he laid on the mattress in Jongdae's future bedroom, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and his flannel shirt.

"Round two?" Jongdae laughed as he got up to put on his jeans. Baekhyun couldn't help but admire his ass. It was a work of art; he'd know. He _was_ an artist after all.

"Who did you want to be when you were a kid?" Baekhyun asked, rolling over onto his stomach.

"Are we doing a q&a session?"

"I guess. If you answer, you get to ask me a question, any question," Baekhyun clarified the rules of the little game.

"When I was very little—I think I wanted to be a police officer? Like my dad. But later... an actor," he said and pondered for a second. "Yeah, I think that's it."

"Your dad's a cop?"

In response, Jongdae only groaned for around ten seconds, Baekhyun counted.

"I won't mention him anymore then," he chuckled.

"Please don't, I love him, but... There comes a day when you realize your parents are, you know, actual people with good intentions and bad opinions, and I'd rather not think about those right now. Especially when you're lying in my future bed," he said as he pulled his black turtleneck over his head. 

"Why?" 

" _If a man lies_ _with a male as with a woman—"_

"Yikes," Baekhyun cut in knowing the rest of that misunderstood passage. "I get it, no, I get it," he repeated wondering what question he was going to get. 

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Jongdae asked, his eyes lingering on Baekhyun, impatiently anticipating the answer.

"As a romantic thing? I don't think I do," Baekhyun said firmly. "People aren't meant for each other, it's all coincidence, love's an active choice for a lot of people. That's why arranged marriages have a chance to work. But I've met people who I want to take care of and usually I can't, it's not meant that way. I always hope that maybe we can meet again, in a different life, somehow find each other in the chaos, and then we can care for each other. As lovers, friends, maybe even family, I don't know," he rambled, getting lost in his thoughts. 

It was a very conflicted topic for Baekhyun. On one hand, he desperately wanted to believe that there was no meaning to anything, but he also hung onto the most pathetic string of hope that there _was_ meaning to be found. Even if that meaning was caring for others and giving selflessly. But, he didn’t feel like he was born to love anyone in particular, except maybe himself, but even that rang hollow most days. 

"Do you want to take care of me?"

Baekhyun felt his heart skip a beat. "I think I do. If we won't see each other again in this life, I hope we do in another one. Maybe we've already met and this is our next chance."

"In that case," Jongdae began and threw Baekhyun's shirt on the mattress, "we need to make the best of it. Get up, the night's still young. It's only quarter to ten."

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"If this were a romantic movie, you would've taken me to your favorite cafe or something," Baekhyun remarked, not able to contain his laughter.

"I'm sorry, is IHOP not enough for you, my prince?" The fake outrage in his voice made Baekhyun giggle, making his wobbly chair move. 

The restaurant they had chosen was almost empty with maybe two or three tables taken besides theirs. The inside wasn’t quite worn-down, but it definitely needed renovation with its faded tables, unstable chairs, and torn leather booth cushions

"Actually, I feel spoiled. I haven't eaten here in awhile. Also, this is the second time today we're eating pancakes," he noticed and tried to fit a particularly large piece into his mouth. "Is there a reason?"

Jongdae started fidgeting with a napkin. "Do you have those foods that you don't eat often but once you do, you become obsessed with them? That's me and pancakes right now."

"I get occasional phases when buttered toast seems like the tastiest shit, every two years or so I make myself some toast for breakfast and I'm hit with this realization. I always get over it in a week or so, but those phases are intense," he agreed with Jongdae.

"You get it." Jongdae smiled at him as he reached for his cup of coffee. "It's been around twenty-four hours since we met."

"Is this our first anniversary or something?"

"It can be, I just wanted to remind you since you were so adamant on the forty-eight-hour deadline," he laughed. "We didn't even stay in Fairview, so I guess I lost either way."

"You know I was being dramatic, right? I needed something interesting to happen in my life, that's all."

"Oh, I know that, I live for the drama. That's why you're so much fun." He grinned at Baekhyun. "You still haven't asked your next question."

Baekhyun had completely forgotten about their little game. There were so many things he wanted to learn about Jongdae, even if he knew it'd make him jealous. This man wasn't even his friend, he lived his own life that didn't revolve around Baekhyun in the slightest. It was delusional to think he was going to have a significant impact on his life. It's not like Baekhyun was capable of that.

"How many times have you been in love?" he asked, hoping the answer would sober him up from his growing crush.

Jongdae stayed silent for a while as he sipped his coffee, his eyes glued to the table before him. "Two," he finally answered. "And I've never confessed it to either of those people."

This answer somehow achieved the opposite effect. "Why?"

"I don't know. The first time, I couldn't bring myself to say it, the words would always get stuck in my throat. And the second time, I kept telling him that I love him but it wasn't actually true, it always rang empty. Until it was the end and it no longer mattered." He shrugged. "You chose a downer question."

Baekhyun nodded. "Yeah."

"What about you?"

This really was a shitty thing to ask. Baekhyun didn't want to answer, but it wouldn't be fair to Jongdae. He braced himself. "None, I haven't, not truly, definitely not selflessly, no," he denied and stuffed his face with a piece of pancake. "I'm a very elusive figure, I think. I don't stay in people's lives for long enough to mean anything to them," he said when he stopped chewing.

"I don't understand," Jongdae said looking at him with deep worry.

"Why?"

"Because you already mean a lot to me. It's cheesy, it's cliche, but tell me, how many times have you met someone this way? How many times have you put your trust in a stranger like this? Even if we never see each other again, I'll always wonder what happened to you. You made a big impression on me."

"You're the exception, then. No one else ever notices me." 

_Or cares about me,_ he wanted to add in a sudden surge of self-pity.

Jongdae looked at him like he grew a second head. "I'm sorry someone made you think this way about yourself." The tenderness in his voice jumped out to Baekhyun, it made him feel precious and valued. "It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"But it should be," he said firmly. "People deserve equal chances, Baekhyun."

"I don't think I'm worth one. I think I already blew my shot."

Jongdae intertwined their hands, his touch soft on Baekhyun's dry skin. "I don't know why you think this way, I don't know what made you perceive the world this bleakly, but I'm sorry... I really am. You shouldn't feel like this, no one should."

Baekhyun avoided looking at him, afraid to accept the compassion Jongdae was offering him. He wasn't taking pity on him, he seemed genuinely angry that someone or something convinced Baekhyun that he was worthless.


	3. Chapter 3

“I fucking hate this!” Baekhyun impulsively screamed into the void from the Lovejoy Viaduct. “I really fucking do! I’m so done with everything! I don’t know what to do with myself anymore!”

One thing gone from his bucket list; he can finally cross out screaming at the top of his lungs from a bridge _. _ Was kissing in the rain going to be next?

Even though it was already after midnight, Jongdae wanted to show Baekhyun the Lovejoy Columns which supported the viaduct. They were covered in murals that had been first done in chalk, only to be preserved later. 

“I’m so frustrated with myself!” Jongdae joined in, even his short, dark hair becoming tangled by the wind. “Why can’t I let things go! Why do I nurture my hurt until it becomes unbearable!”

Baekhyun laughed. “Look at you, being all poetic and shit, meanwhile I just curse very loudly.”

Jongdae shrugged. “My first love is getting fucking married and I’m still not fucking over him! When will this fucking end!” he shouted to Baekhyun’s amusement. “Better?”

Baekhyun’s stomach was starting to hurt from laughing so damn much. “Yes! Yes! Much better! We need to let go of our frustrations.”

“Usually I just scream into a pillow, but this might not be so bad actually,” Jongdae said. "I wish my dad wasn't such a fuckface, so I could tell him that Junmyeon is getting married to Minseok! They are so happy together! I'm so happy for them!" he screamed into the darkness beneath them.

"I have a question regarding this." 

"What is it?"

"Have they found a willing lesbian couple to marry them for tax benefits?" Baekhyun asked half-joking. 

“I think they’re still looking because they thought it would be funny too. But yeah, the wedding’s gonna be informal, but they don’t care, I don’t think anyone cares to be honest.”

“It’s still beautiful that they’re deciding to go through with it.” Baekhyun smiled despite himself as they walked along the railing looking for the stairs to the columns. The viaduct looked quite normal and boring from down below (much like any bridge). There was no chance this place could subvert expectations. Maybe except for the thing he and Jongdae actually came there to see; the Lovejoy columns. They were a sight to behold.

Jongdae illuminated the intricate graffiti with a small, shitty flashlight he kept on his keychain. Baekhyun admired the murals, the white paint contrasted on the dark, rusty background. They mostly depicted events from Greek mythology, different illustrations of owls and skillfully drawn landscapes.

“Do you know who this is?” Jongdae asked him as they passed another column.

Baekhyun shook his head, looking at a drawing of a man holding a lantern in his hand. It looked eerily similar to what Jongdae was doing. 

“It’s Diogenes, he was said to carry a lamp during the day, claiming that he was looking for an honest man,” Jongdae chuckled. “He openly mocked Alexander the Great once and literally told him to get the fuck out because he was blocking the sun, he was a legend.”

Baekhyun gasped. “I remember something, oh god, something about Plato, and a chicken, and this dude, but I can’t put my finger on it,” he said in one breath.

Jongdae laughed. “Plato defined the man as a  _ featherless biped _ because he sadly didn’t know kangaroos existed, I guess. Diogenes, being his usual self, busted into his academy one day with a plucked chicken, screaming ‘Behold a man!’ Cynics were cool, alright." 

The wind blew directly into Baekhyun's face, making it difficult to look at Jongdae. Some sand got into his eyes and he felt them starting to water. 

"The ancient Greeks believed in reincarnation—well, Plato and Aristotle at least did," he said helping Baekhyun wipe the tears of his face. "According to them, the soul is eternal and just migrates to different bodies." 

Baekhyun admired the way the harsh light of the faraway street lamp illuminated Jongdae's features, his high cheekbones, and sharp jawline. It was no wonder he couldn’t help but fall deeper and deeper into the trap that was adoring him. Jongdae was smart, maybe a bit preachy, but also extremely honest no matter whether it concerned his opinions on things or his feelings, he didn’t beat around the bush.

"Are you trying to seduce me with your knowledge of random facts about Greek philosophers?" Baekhyun asked, trying to get himself out of the serious mood.

Jongdae blinked rapidly. "I think I'm just spewing random knowledge because I'm shit at small talk," he deadpanned. "I can either talk about my personal traumas, things I used to obsess over when I was younger, or… the last movie I've seen? Yeah, pick your poison." 

“Don’t get me wrong, the fact that you can shit-talk philosophers is amusing, to say the least,” Baekhyun laughed.

“Good, because Ancient Greece doesn’t come up as frequently in conversation as childhood-me had hoped. I have all this knowledge and no one to share it with!”

“Then tell me something; a myth a lot of people don’t know or something that had made an impression on you when you were younger,” Baekhyun said as he took Jongdae’s hand. 

“I wouldn’t say I was impressed—rather traumatized frankly—but my history teacher used to tell one particular story about Sparta that stuck with me. Maybe you know it? It gets written in the textbooks a lot. But, as the story goes:

Young boys in Sparta were encouraged to steal whatever they wanted as a way to prove their wits and it was seen as a disgrace if they got caught. One boy decided to steal a fox cub for himself, but the owners came running for the animal and he was forced to hide it under his clothes in an attempt to deceive them. They questioned the boy, but he denied stealing anything even as the fox clawed at his skin and bit through his insides.” Jongdae paused after his recitation, then, “It’s probably Spartan propaganda, not something that actually took place, but  _ my  _ point is—don’t hide the things that bring you pain,” Jongdae told him. “It’s not worth it in the end. Frankly, maybe I should listen to my own advice too.”

Baekhyun laughed bitterly. "You don't say." 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Jongdae showed him a bar on Stark Street. Baekhyun ordered some drinks at the bar, trying to communicate with the bartender without screaming in her ear. He was a fairly loud person, but even his voice wasn’t a match for a crowded pub. Jongdae went to the restroom, leaving his jacket on the chair by their table.

As he placed the drinks, Baekhyun noticed something in the corner of his eye. He was sure he saw him; the man from before was standing by the exit door. He looked the same as before, sweater and slacks, a perpetually sad expression carved onto his face. It felt like getting struck by lighting or catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure standing right beside you. 

Baekhyun didn't believe in ghosts, but if they existed, this man surely must've been one.

There was something about him fundamentally out of place; like he was a toy that wasn't put together properly or a book with strange misprints and ink splatters on the pages. 

Baekhyun ran out of the bar—not even bothering to put on his jacket, but thanks to the alcohol he wasn’t shivering. Not yet at least. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he looked around not able to see the older man anymore. There were a few men standing outside the Eagle pub, but none of them resembled the person Baekhyun was looking for.

“Do you have a lighter?” someone shouted at Baekhyun from the other side of the road.

He nodded and the man across the street ran to him.

“I’ll give you the lighter if you spare me a cig, deal?” Baekhyun offered even though he didn’t smoke much. Maybe if he was drinking or when he was really down in the dumps. Today could be considered both.

“Deal,” the younger man said as he inhaled the smoke. “You’re a lifesaver—”

“Baekhyun,” he introduced himself.

“Oh, I don’t have to use my English name then, I’m Yukhei,” he laughed, his deep voice echoing through the almost empty streets. Yukhei brushed away his lightened blond hair revealing his pierced ears.

Baekhyun flicked the lighter to light his cigarette, the flame dancing before his palm. He exhaled looking up at the sky, feeling cold air touch his neck.

“Were you looking for someone before?”

“Yeah, I thought I saw… someone I know, but I don’t see him here. We must’ve missed each other,” he answered wondering how the fuck it was possible that he wasn’t shivering.

“What’s his name? I can help you look for him if you want,” Yukhei offered with a friendly smile, the cigarette periodically touching his lips.

Baekhyun reciprocated. “Jongdae, but you don’t have to bother, if he wants to, I’m sure he’ll find me again.” However, Baekhyun hoped it was not the case. He didn't know why, but the thought of seeing the older version of Jongdae filled him with anxiety. The man’s presence was unsettling and the things he said made Baekhyun hope that he was only imagining him.

“Are you alone here?” Yukhei asked, something lighting up in his eyes. “Or do you need someone to keep you company?”

Baekhyun chuckled, throwing his head back. “No, I’m taken tonight, sorry. You’re too young for me anyway.” He was starting to get light-headed from the tobacco, and mixed with the alcohol, everything seemed to feel a little unreal, fuzzy around the edges. Maybe none of this was actually happening? Maybe it was one of his escapist fantasies he entertained to feel better about himself? A one where he managed to find someone who cares about him as a person worth getting to know intimately.

“How old do you think I am?” Yukhei laughed.

“Like twenty, maybe?" Baekhyun suggested to Yukhei's approval. "I’m twenty-six, I could be your older brother, I just have a babyface.”

"It's not that bad.” Yukhei showed off his straight, white teeth. “But alright, I hope you can find your friend!” he said as he stubbed the cigarette on the garbage can and ran back to his friends.

Baekhyun waved back at him, turning around to go back to the bar. That interaction felt  _ off _ somehow, but not because of anything Yukhei did.  _ No _ , it was just that normally Baekhyun wouldn't have declined the invitation. If he was behaving like he usually did, he would've joined Yukhei and his friends for a night, only to never see them again. 

But Baekhyun knew Jongdae was waiting for him and there was no way he was going to abandon him, not this night. It was their time to spend together. 

He nodded at him when he found their table. "Sorry, I thought I saw… a friend," Baekhyun said, Jongdae just shrugged. "Are you sure you don't have a secret older brother?" 

Jongdae furrowed his brows and looked intently at him. "Definitely not older, I’m pretty sure my mom didn’t have a kid in high school. The family wouldn’t let her live. Why are you asking?"

"I don't know, I swear I talked to someone very similar to you right before we met yesterday. I keep thinking about it, that’s it.”

“Well, that’s not a good sign for me,” Jongdae chuckled.

“Why?”

“Doppelgangers are supposed to omen someone’s death,” he told Baekhyun. “I’d like to keep on living, thank you very much. I’ve so many dogs to pet, so many people to annoy.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

At some point during that night Baekhyun ended up outside again, hoping that the cold air would help him sober up even a little bit—it didn’t. Jongdae was inside chatting with one of the bartenders; he was probably going to come out soon. 

Baekhyun looked up at the dark sky with his head touching the brick wall behind him and sighed trying to ground himself.

“If you want to say something wild—now is your chance, my friend. I probably won’t remember this in the morning—or, like, barely. Make the best of it,” he said to the older Jongdae, who was standing by the street light. “You know, I saw you before. You’re not as good at hiding as you think you are.”

The man looked like he actually contemplated asking Baekhyun something. “It’s heartbreaking to see you like this. At the time I hadn’t realized how lost you were, but now it’s so obvious. I just feel bad for you.” 

Baekhyun started to boo. “You were supposed to be nosy, not make me realize how sad I look. Shame on you." 

"I suppose." He shrugged. "Take this from someone who’s literally lived through this already—it gets better. It really fucking does after a while, but not immediately, I wouldn’t count on that."

“Thanks… you were unhelpful.”

“Well, what do you expect me to say? I can’t really do anything,” He looked at Baekhyun, his eyes lighting up in a realization. “Actually, there’s something I want you to know.”

Baekhyun sighed. “What is it?”

“There’s so much you can do, please, don’t give up. I can’t guarantee you that people are gonna come running for you if you disappear again.” 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Stark Street was almost entirely empty. Blame it on it being after 2 a.m. on a Thursday or relatively cold, either worked. 

Baekhyun squeezed Jongdae's hand as they strolled through the deserted streets, past brick houses with looming fire escapes, various food trucks, and small cafés that were barely visible in the dim light cast by the lanterns. The facades were shiny with condensation that gathered on the parget. It felt like walking into a dark tunnel, unsure of what was on the other side.

He was focusing on carefully setting one foot next to another, trying to imitate the intricate art of walking in a straight line. Balancing your whole body was difficult after drinking a bit too much whiskey—Baekhyun would know. 

“Dae,” he chirped. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Are finally gonna confess that you’re the Zodiac killer?” Jongdae referenced their inside joke for the fifth time that evening. 

“ _ Nooo _ ,” Baekhyun protested, tugging at Jongdae’s arm. “He shot his victims, I’ve never held a gun in my life! No, I just wanted to tell you that this is the first date I’ve been to in… two years, I think,” he said, failing at simple subtraction. Maybe it had been three years?

“Well, in that case, I’m sorry? This is kinda a shitty date.”

“Nooo, that’s not what I meant,” Baekhyun slurred. “I—I’m happy it was with you, you know? I feel safe and comfortable around you. Please, don’t let me run away, I can be such a coward sometimes,” he confessed, stopping under a streetlamp to see Jongdae’s expression better.

He smiled. “I’m not your anchor, Baekhyun,” he said firmly. “I can’t keep you by the shore, I don’t have that kind of power.”

“Then be the wave breaker; keep me safe in my harbor,” Baekhyun said as he put his hand on Jongdae’s chest right above his heart. He reached with his other hand to touch the back of Jongdae’s head and drew him closer to kiss him. 

Every time he kissed Jongdae it felt different, this time it was somehow hopeful, full of promise for a better future. It was delicate, awkward in its shyness even, soft like a first kiss typically would be. He wanted it to last.

Jongdae didn't say much after that, he silently led Baekhyun back to his apartment

"I want to draw you," Baekhyun confessed as laid in Jongdae's makeshift bed, his eyes focused on Jongdae's profile, the slope of his nose, and the curve of his mouth. He even started counting all the little moles on his neck. "Maybe not in the near future, but someday. I don't usually draw people but you make me want to for some reason."

He tried to focus on the music playing in the background from Jongdae's hi-fi system, but his attention kept slipping. 

"Have you worked on any self-portraits?" Jongdae asked out of the blue as he turned to face him.

Baekhyun hesitated with his answer. "Yes, but I'm always sad in them, either crying or hiding my face." 

Jongdae left a soft kiss on his forehead. "I hope someday you'll be able to portray yourself as happy. Or at least the way people close to you see you." 

Baekhyun reached for Jongdae's hand and brought it closer to his chest. "I hope you can let go of everything that brings you pain," he said.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"Why the fuck did I compare myself to a boat," Baekhyun grumbled into his pillow upon waking up, his back pressed against Jongdae's. One more drunken conversation he was embarrassed about.  _ Great _ .

It was surprisingly early, the sun still hanging low in the sky. Baekhyun stretched his arms, his hands touching the wall behind him. 

"Wake up," he said into Jongdae's ear. The man only burrowed his head under the blanket.

"Go brush your teeth,  _ please, _ " his whine got muffled by the sheets.

"Be glad I'm not hungover!" Baekhyun laughed.

"Yeah, I don't know how you keep doing that. If I drank as much as you, I'd be praying to the aspirin gods for mercy right now." 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun looked at the entrance to Portland’s Japanese Garden and then back at Jongdae.

“If you want to, you can count  _ this  _ as your first date in two years. I wouldn’t mind.” His smile seemed brighter than the actual sun.

“Three actually, I’m shit at math and counted it wrong.”

“My point still stands. I wanted to show you the Test Garden, but it’s winter and the roses aren’t in bloom anymore, it’s a shame you didn’t come here in September, we could’ve gone there,” Jongdae said as he led him through the gate, his hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder. 

He shrugged. “In September I wasn’t even planning on moving here,” he stated. Baekhyun was frankly scared by the spontaneity of his decision to leave California, it still didn’t feel real that he wasn’t going back there. He wasn’t sure if it ever would.

Jongdae just nodded like he didn’t want to address the topic anymore, or he was waiting for Baekhyun to elaborate. He didn’t.

The path near the entrance led them to a little square tiled with polished concrete. The tickets were sold in a small kiosk. There was a short line, but Baekhyun didn’t mind, he even started chatting with one of the families standing behind him. They had two kids, the older was maybe three—Baekhyun couldn’t estimate kids’ age even if his life depended on it—and his sister was still in the stroller. She must’ve been having a rough day because she randomly started crying at some point.

Jongdae smiled at the crying baby and started doing silly faces to make her laugh, which seemed to do just fine, but Jongdae wouldn't be himself if he didn't try to show off in some way. He started singing. 

Baekhyun felt strangely wistful listening to his improvised rendition of Fleetwood Mac's “The Chain”. Although, it wasn't about the song choice, rather Jongdae's voice. Upon listening to it, Baekhyun grew convinced that he'd heard it before, even if he wasn't sure where. 

He couldn't quite place it—almost like the memory he tried to recall didn't exist.

"You're good with kids," he said to him sometime later as they strolled through the park. Baekhyun felt enveloped in the dark-green pines that grew all around them. "But why Fleetwood Mac, don't you know any lullabies?" 

"I blanked out, my mom would listen to them on repeat when I still lived with her. The other option was Mariah Carey," Jongdae said, shrugging. "I guess I  _ am _ good with kids, I have a lot of cousins with small children, at some point you just learn how to calm them down. I don't know, it’s just—I wouldn't mind working with kids, you know? Or even having my own to be honest." 

"This is very much not a first date conversation," Baekhyun laughed as he stepped onto a small wooden bridge. 

"No, it isn't," Jongdae agreed with him. "But I guess neither is talking about soulmates with someone you just met,” he pointed out his blunder. “Whose turn it was to ask a weirdly personal question?”

“Probably yours.” Baekhyun didn’t, in fact, know. 

Jongdae grimaced. “I think it’s yours actually, I used my turn to ask about self-portraits.”

_ Right. _ That conversation. To Baekhyun it was such a foreign idea to portray  _ himself _ in his art that it, borderline, didn’t make sense.  _ Why would he even do it? _

“Okay, but if you were able to do it, what would your plan to get away with murder be?” Baekhyun couldn’t help but interrupt himself with laughter. What a ridiculous question for an almost-lawyer to ask.

“Do you need inspiration?”

“I kinda think it’s like a personality test almost?” he proposed. “It says a lot about a person if they don’t want to get their hands dirty and poison someone, or if they have a lot of pent up anger and wouldn’t hesitate to go at it with a hatchet.”

“I don’t think I have a lot of useful skills for a potential murderer.”

“But you’re… inconspicuous? Not to say that you’re average, you just look innocent, cute,” Baekhyun caught himself going off-topic. 

“I mean—If I were as unremorseful as I imagine myself to be in my worst moments,” Jongdae began dramatically but he got betrayed by cracking a smile at the worst possible moment. “I’d probably seduce a rich man—”

“—My dad,” Baekhyun cut in.

“Why the fuck would I seduce your dad? Please, explain to me the logistics of this,” he laughed, burying his face in his hands. 

“You could redistribute his wealth, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Right, so the plan is, I seduce  _ your dad _ , poison him, and then redistribute the wealth?”

“Precisely,” Baekhyun agreed as he looked at the stream below them, feeling nostalgic for no apparent reason. There was this somber feeling he felt around Jongdae that day and he couldn’t identify the reason.

“You could’ve just said you were looking for an accomplice.”

“Isn’t that what dating is anyway? Looking for a person who could potentially commit murder with you? Or at least tax fraud?”

They walked through a well-worn path through the park, dark green still all around them. Baekhyun took his time trying to memorize the area surrounding him; tall pines, thick bushes, and grey clouds hanging low in the sky. He was glad he could spend such a lovely day with Jongdae.

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae began. “I’m willing to commit tax fraud with you.”

“This is the most romantic thing someone has ever told me.” Baekhyun started to theatrically tear up; he even managed to shed a single tear. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun smiled at Jongdae as he took a sip of his sugary, iced coffee. He started to rock his chair back and forth as a means to preoccupy himself.

The Starbucks they visited on their way back to Fairview was crowded to the point that every table in sight was taken. Baekhyun heard one of the barista’s shout someone’s name. There were people talking, shouting and laughing all around them. He felt the corners of his mouth lift again.

“What?”

“It’s just—nice. I’m having a really lovely day thanks to you,” Baekhyun said.

Jongdae looked embarrassed.  _ How adorable _ . He bit into his chocolate chip cookie, probably to have an excuse not to say anything. 

"Fuck," he said looking at something behind Baekhyun. 

He turned around to see what was so upsetting to him. "Why are you swearing at Home Depot? Bad memories? Did you get banned from your local Home Depot like my dad?"

“No, but now I’m wondering what the fuck happened to _you_ ,” Jongdae said, looking especially amused.

“He wanted to return a can of expanding foam? I don’t remember the details but it was against company policy and he ended up making one the cashiers cry. Needless to say, I was very embarrassed for him— _ hell _ , I still am." 

"Why can I sense that both our fathers have—let's say, questionable personalities?"

"Keen understanding of human psyche? Or stereotypes. I actually don't know—he definitely seems like it though," Baekhyun said.

“That aside, I remembered I’d forgotten to buy wallpaper and I have people coming over tomorrow to help me with the renovation,” he said.

“And? We can still go there?” Baekhyun said as he started to stand up from his seat. “Nothing’s stopping us.”

“Aren’t we on a date though?”

“I always wanted to go for a date to Home Depot!” Baekhyun assured Jongdae as he took his hand and started dragging him to the aforementioned store. This was certainly in his top ten of the weirdest shit he'd said in his life.

Jongdae didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun leaned on the shopping cart and took a sip of his watered-down coffee from before. The straw slipped from his mouth and hit his nose.

“This is like the third time I’ve seen you hurt your nose,  _ today _ ,” Jongdae said as he put another plant into the cart. Baekhyun leaned down to count them—it was the fourth one.

“Yeah, I noticed. It’s not even particularly big,” Baekhyun pinched it to emphasize what he'd just said. “it just gets in the way. My masochistic side doesn’t mind though. My ass wouldn't mind that kind of rough treatment,” he said, making Jongdae stop whatever he was doing. “Too much information?”

He shook his head. “A bit—like, I don’t think this is the right moment to tell me something like this?” he said, looking like some part of his brain was melting—a textbook example of gay panic. Jongdae turned around to intensely stare at the nearest succulent. “Why in a public place? Jesus Christ.”

Baekhyun shrugged and continued to drink his coffee while supporting half of his body weight on the cart. “Don’t you have enough plants?”

“There’s no such thing as enough plants.” Jongdae eyed a big, leafy ficus. "They all need a friend and I’m the perfect candidate." 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“Mothers and Fuckers of the Jury,” Baekhyun said as he climbed onto one of the ladders for the employees, only one of his hands holding the rung. “Someone told me this in law school and it’s been ruining my life ever since.”

“Ohhh, law school you say? Fancy,” Jongdae unknowingly caught his slip up.

“Yeah, don’t get too excited. I dropped out.” Baekhyun jumped from the ladder. Honestly, it was probably for the better.

Jongdae shrugged as he looked through the different wallpaper options available to him. “Every experience is valuable.”

“Nah, sometimes you just waste a year of your life,” Baekhyun countered.  _ Or several. _

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"So—law school, huh?" Jongdae asked as he paid by the cash register. 

Baekhyun took a deep breath. "Yeah, I dropped out after the first semester. A waste of time and money, I know," he said, repeating a phrase he’s heard countless times.

"I mean, it's your time and money, do what you want with them. I'm just wondering—do you want to go back? Is it even possible?" Jongdae tilted his head.

"I kinda don't care?" Baekhyun chuckled. "I bombed all the midterms to help the curve, the people in my class deserved it." 

Jongdae looked amused. "You, sir, are a true hero."

"At least you think that." Baekhyun felt weirdly appreciated. "Seriously, I hated every day I spent there to the point that I can't imagine anyone actively wanting to get a law degree." 

Jongdae raised his eyebrows like he knew a person like that. "You didn't have a good time there."

"That's an understatement if I heard one. I mean, who else drops out after a semester? It wasn't even a case of expectations versus reality, I knew I would hate it but I was determined to at least try because of family pressure... And then I realized there was no point to it. I was just hurting myself in a really roundabout way. Living on coffee and nicotine gets old pretty fast."

"Hey, at least now you're free to do whatever you want, right?" Jongdae looked around searching for the motorcycle. "Do people in law school really smoke that much? I've always wondered."

Baekhyun nodded vigorously. "Your options are—a combination of coffee and cigarettes that's, probably, actively increasing your chances of heart failure. Or—whatever new ADHD medication someone managed to get their hands on, and is now reselling at double the original price. And I went to a top 20 school, baby, I can't imagine what's happening in the T14 schools." He clicked his tongue. "I'm a social smoker, I didn't really have to quit… I just stopped, but yeah—it's bad." 

Jongdae laughed awkwardly. "That sounds... horrible? Yeah, that's the word I'm looking for." 

"Take it with a grain of salt, I knew I would hate it there, so I didn't really have a positive outlook on the whole thing. But I don't think there's a lot of people who can say they  _ enjoyed _ the law school experience, whether it's something that's meant to be enjoyed is a different conversation entirely," Baekhyun concluded shrugging. 

"You got into a top 20 school, that's hella impressive, at least from an outsider perspective."

"I mean, I'd never go there if I didn't have financial support from my dad.  _ I  _ was kind of the asshole in this situation for dropping out."

Jongdae's expression twisted as he jammed the roll of wallpaper into one of the saddlebags, deeming it good enough when only about a half was sticking out. "Somewhere there's a universe where you've already graduated and are still hoping for your dad's approval, but I'm guessing this is not this reality, right?" 

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Baekhyun felt sick just trying to decide what to say. “I don’t think I know anything about myself right now, so I can’t really answer.”

“What do you mean?” Jongdae looked concerned.

“I really can’t tell whether I’m still hoping for his approval or not.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“I’m gonna drive you to the motel, okay?”

Baekhyun looked at Jongdae and tilted his head.

“We’ve only got a few hours left,” Jongdae reminded him.

_ Right _ , Baekhyun forgot about their deal from before. It was terrifying how attached he'd gotten to Jongdae in the past two days. “You convinced me to stay,” he said, only just now realizing that he didn’t want to continue with his plan. He wanted to stick around. His escape path ended here—in Portland with Jongdae.

“I thought you were staying either way?”

Baekhyun didn’t know what to say, there was this cognitive dissonance between what Jongdae expected him to answer and the truth. He didn’t know he would stay until Jongdae reminded him about the deal. He’d gotten too comfortable around him. This couldn’t end well. Relationships like these rarely did.

“Yeah,” he said and brought the green watering can closer to his side as he watched Jongdae punch in the code to his apartment building.

Was it actually a good idea to stay in Portland? Was it what he really needed? Baekhyun felt a dull throbbing in his head. He was falling for Jongdae, hard and fast, but it couldn't have been real. He was deluding himself and the best way to stop it was to pull the plug immediately. 

Baekhyun wouldn’t even dare to hope Jongdae was feeling the same way, there was no chance, no one could feel this way about him. The only way to save himself from the inevitable heartbreak was to disappear again. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” Jongdae said and put down one of the plants on the windowsill, white walls contrasting with the bright-green leaves. He was too observant for his own good. 

“I think the caffeine’s wearing off,” Baekhyun lied.

Jongdae didn’t question him further. 

Baekhyun spent the next twenty minutes or so glued to Jongdae’s back, watching the tall silhouettes of evergreen pines move before his eyes as they drove to Fairview on Minseok’s borrowed Honda Super Blackbird. He didn’t want this day to end, he wanted to stay with Jongdae, but he knew it wouldn’t be right.

“So… see you—”

“Stay with me,” Baekhyun caught himself saying despite everything. “We can watch a movie or even just take a nap, I don’t care.”

Jongdae seemed to brighten up. 

Baekhyun didn’t understand why. His problem appeared to be his inability to even fathom that someone could be interested in him as a person, that someone would want to get to know him, care for him. Baekhyun was aware it was irrational, that he was fundamentally misunderstanding the way people saw or interacted with him. But it was so hard to ignore his gut reactions.

“You’re hiding something," Jongdae told him later, his head lying on the decorative pillow with a floral print and tassels attached to the corners, his eyes half-closed. "I'm not blind, Baek. Something's bothering you." 

"You don't know me," Baekhyun said harshly as he turned around onto his side, his eyes glued to the old, flickering TV. 

"But I want to," Jongdae said with such sincerity in his voice that Baekhyun almost felt bad for what he was about to do.

Baekhyun waited until Jongdae fell asleep, the two days he'd spend with him taking a toll on him. He got up from the bed, wrote a short note, and left it on the nightstand next to some porcelain figurine. 

"Goodnight," he whispered and closed the door behind him, the bag with all his belongings heavy in his other hand. 

Nothing felt real, not the way his footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, not the way the receptionist looked at him from his desk when he stopped to admire the portrait again.  _ Something was wrong. _

Baekhyun could swear that before the painting had depicted a different man, but now the canvas bore Jongdae's image. 

He felt like he was sinking, being swallowed whole by the worn-out carpet beneath him. 

The outside didn't seem real either, Baekhyun crouched by the entrance doors and tried to convince himself to go back to his room. Instead, he started walking to his car, his legs betraying him.

If he stayed with Jongdae, none of what he'd said would be a lie; he didn't want to lie. Not anymore.

As he was about to turn around and go back to the motel, to throw away the note just to stay with Jongdae, he saw someone standing by his car.

"Jongdae?"

The man almost jumped, clearly not anticipating anyone else to notice him. Baekhyun took a closer look at him because while it was  _ Jongdae,  _ it wasn't the same man who was sleeping in the Rainbow Motel just minutes ago. He was older, sadder, so very small in some sense like he wanted to collapse onto himself and vanish. It pained Baekhyun to see him in such low spirits. 

"You're not him, are you? You’re not  _ my  _ Jongdae." He for sure  _ wasn’t. _ Baekhyun couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something fundamentally alien about this man that differentiated them. 

He scratched his head, his back touching the back door of Baekhyun’s car. “I'm not this person yet—I mean, I am  _ your  _ Jongdae in a sense. But he isn't me, Baekhyun, not for a very long time," he said. 

"Then who are you?" Baekhyun started to wonder how long it would take for him to open the car, get inside, and lock it. Five seconds? Less than that? Was he brave enough to find out? He squeezed the car keys in his pocket.

"Someone very close to you."

"Prove it." 

"Your real name isn't Baekhyun."

He stared at the stranger, his feet glued to the ground. There wasn't a single thing going through his mind, only white noise, TV static. Sheer panic was overtaking Baekhyun. This couldn't be happening. This wasn’t real, no, it wasn’t possible, not with the preparations he had made.

"How do you know?" he managed to say.

Not-Jongdae shrugged. "You told me—not  _ you _ , your future self."

What a pile of bullshit. 

"I don't understand what you're talking about!" Something in Baekhyun broke, he wasn't scared anymore, he was furious. "I couldn't have told you about this, no one knows! Fucking no one! Not my coworkers, not my family! No one cares enough about me to check up on me." He felt light-headed, but not in any graceful or dramatic way, no, his blood pressure must have skyrocketed. He was so angry he was getting dizzy. "What do you want from me?" He felt his eyes prickling with tears. 

The man looked… apologetic, like he knew he had screwed up. But it was already too late for Baekhyun to care.

"This is not what's supposed to happen…" he muttered, his eyes lighting up in a realization. 

"The fuck are you talking about!" Baekhyun's own voice echoed in his head, his desire to go back to the motel forgotten. “Why do you keep following me? Why do you know so much about me? I don’t under—”

"Baekhyun, I'm—"

"No, no, I don't care. I don’t care! Leave me alone." Baekhyun opened his car and got inside as fast as he could, locking it right after slamming the door. He rested his head on the steering wheel. 

_ In and out, breathe, in and out. _ He didn’t feel like he was going to faint anymore—good—but the headache remained as a warning.

Baekhyun looked outside, the man had disappeared, the only reminder of him being the dull throbbing in his temples. With that, he began to sob, a loud keen escaping his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for z, this chapter wouldn't exist without your encouragement (and obsession with chanyeol's creep cover)

Baekhyun drove to Portland. He didn't have any particular reason, it was just the closest big city, a place where he could blend into the crowd. At least that's what he told himself. Not because Jongdae was close, no, it wasn't because of him. 

He stayed at a different motel for some time, then found himself an apartment and tried to settle in, to not think about Fairview or the fact that Jongdae was going to move to Portland. He was probably here already, looking out the window, observing the big storm that had begun on the 12th of December. Just as Baekhyun did. 

There was nothing to do besides painting, imagining stories in his head about the places and people he drew. Watching TV made him worried, but he wasn’t panicking, rather the opposite, he was irrationally calm, numb to the mayhem happening outside. Baekhyun had been under the impression that the world was ending, at least for him, for the last few years of his life. It was impossible to scare him at this point. 

Most people imagined the end times as an event on a global scale, something everyone would be experiencing at the same time. However, the apocalypse was much more personal to Baekhyun. It wasn't hurricanes or buildings crumbling down, thunderstorms and floods inundating the world. No, it was sitting in his room, crying into a pillow, knowing there was no one left to comfort him because he’d pushed them away. 

Baekhyun sat in his new apartment until the rain stopped. He didn’t know what to do with himself after that. He was bored, empty, and restless. It didn’t differ much from his previous situation in California. 

He didn't really start over, he just took his quarter-life crisis on a road trip.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun didn’t know when New Year’s Eve came, he only noticed it because he turned on the radio that day. Getting lost in time and space thanks to not leaving his apartment for three weeks straight was always fun. He didn’t have any plans that day, not really, just paint, look for commissions, drink three cups, or more, of coffee and fall asleep at 4 a.m. He was an indisputable mess. 

Stark Street was filled with people. Baekhyun didn’t find it unusual, it was expected on a day like this one, and yet, he couldn’t help, but compare it to the first time he was there with Jongdae. He stepped on the same sidewalk, passed the same shops, cafes and bars, but they all seemed empty.

Baekhyun felt lonely in the crowd. 

He noticed a sign inviting people to visit The Eagle on the other side of the street and instantly knew he was in the right place.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

_ When you were here before _

_ Couldn’t look you in the eye _

Baekhyun heard the deep voice of the performer sing as he looked at Jongdae sitting across the bar. How delightfully fitting, he wanted to laugh.

He had the worst luck meeting people, especially the ones he didn’t want to see. Baekhyun downed his drink at once and prepared himself to leave the bar. While it was New Year’s Eve, the venue was almost empty, only a handful of people sitting on the couches before the small stage. 

_ What the hell am I doing here? _

_ I don't belong here _

The performing man was also playing guitar, the instrument firmly grasped in his big hands. Baekhyun observed him wondering whether he was thinking about someone specific when singing. He got the impression that he was.

"Fun fact, Radiohead  _ hates  _ performing this song. I told Chanyeol that but he has a typical case of post-breakup angst. And his way of coping with that is by making everyone listen to his sad song of choice," Jongdae said to him by way of greeting. 

_ I want you to notice _

_ When I'm not around _

Baekhyun looked at him trying to mask his embarrassment. "I was just wondering about that. Isn't this song about a guy who's scared to talk to a girl? But Chanyeol—right? He sounds so sad, but for an entirely different reason."

"Oh, you've heard nothing yet, wait ‘till I sing with him a gay version of  _ Fake Plastic Trees.  _ He cried on stage the last time," he laughed.

_ You're so fuckin' special  _

_ I wish I was special _

"Where have you been, Baekhyun?"

"Around," he answered in the most roundabout way he could think of.

"Do you have any plans for today?”

"No, not really," he answered firmly. "I wanted to paint, but I can hang out with you," he said hoping that's what the other man meant.

Jongdae smiled at him. "I'm glad to see you again." 

Baekhyun missed him more than he could articulate.

_ I don't belong here _

_ I don't belong here _

The song fell silent, making the atmosphere even more awkward than before. Chanyeol gestured at Jongdae from the stage, his eyes lingering on Baekhyun for a few seconds. He wondered what Jongdae told the man about him. Probably nothing flattering, Baekhyun didn’t deserve anything nice to be said about him. Especially not after how he’d mistreated Jongdae. 

"Well, that's my cue." He put the already empty glass on the table and smiled at Baekhyun. "Bring me a… non-alcoholic mojito? Let's make Min's life a bit difficult," he laughed as he walked up to the small stage.

Baekhyun observed as he adjusted the microphone, the silver buttons on his leather jacket reflecting the harsh light. Jongdae smiled upon seeing his lingering gaze. 

Chanyeol began softly playing, the first notes of the song conveying unexplainable sadness Baekhyun knew a bit too well. 

_ A green plastic watering can _

Jongdae sang the first line of the song, making Baekhyun freeze in his seat. If he described it as beautiful, he wouldn't be saying anything at all. Jongdae's sounded comforting but also moving and impactful from the first sound he made. 

_ For a fake Chinese rubber plant _

_ In the fake plastic earth _

Baekhyun sat there mesmerized by the way Jongdae's voice obeyed him without any problems, enriching the somber melody, giving it new life. 

_ That he bought from a rubber man _

_ In a town full of rubber plans _

_ To get rid of itself _

_ It wears him out _

Jongdae looked directly at him while repeating the chorus louder and louder each time, kind of like a prayer you say in the hope of it reaching your loved ones. Baekhyun stood up and went to order from the bartender, unable to keep looking. 

"Jongdae wanted a non-alcoholic mojito,” he said to Minseok hoping he wouldn't recognize him. His hopes were futile. 

“Are you the dude from Fairview?” he asked with a sigh as he poured apple juice into the shaker. 

Baekhyun nodded.

“Get your shit together,” he said harshly, sounding a bit like an overprotective brother. But it didn’t make Baekhyun feel bad, not necessarily. He just didn’t want to fuck this up even more.

_ He lives with a broken man _

_ A cracked polystyrene man  _

_ Who just crumbles and burns _

“I’m trying,” Baekhyun defended himself. He didn’t want to fight with anyone today.

“Then keep it up.” Minseok smiled at him while squeezing the lime juice. “And I mean it, I hope everything falls into place for you,” he said sounding genuine. ”You like whiskey?”

“Honestly, I’ll drink anything as long as it’s alcoholic,” Baekhyun said before realizing that he created a new identity for himself and he wasn't following the script at all. He was just acting like himself all this time, answering questions how he'd normally. He couldn't even follow his plan correctly.

Minseok shrugged, reaching out for the bottle and putting the ice in the short glass. Baekhyun tasted the warm-brown liquid, it burnt his throat pleasantly. 

_ He looks like the real thing _

_ He tastes like the real thing  _

“Happy new year, Baekhyun,” Minseok said and handed him the other drink. “I hope it’s better than whatever you’ve been going through.”

Baekhyun turned around to admire Jongdae standing on the stage, his eyes half-closed, focused on the melancholic tune. It sounded like he’d heard it years before, but it was impossible, he was sure he hadn’t. He sipped his whiskey, sang along to the chorus, wishing he didn’t fuck up so many things in his life. Where would he be if he hadn’t? 

_ If I could be who you wanted _

_ If I could be who wanted all the time _

_ All the time _

Baekhyun cheered on with the several other guests when Jongdae and Chanyeol got off the stage. The taller man measured him up. 

"You didn't cry this time," Baekhyun said after coming to the conclusion that it's pointless to get intimidated by a man who tears up while singing about plastic plants. 

Chanyeol laughed, his scary facade immediately disappearing. "I was close, but it's hard to play the guitar when your vision gets blurry." 

"I can imagine," he agreed and handed Jongdae his glass.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Jongdae let them out of his car and handed Chanyeol his keys.

“I’m gonna go find a spot,” he said.

Baekhyun already regretted coming here. Okay, he didn’t, he was glad to see Jongdae again, really, really glad. He just didn’t want to get another slightly threatening pep talk from one of his friends, no matter how well-meaning it might have been. Chanyeol didn’t say anything though, he silently opened the door for Baekhyun, put down his guitar, took off his coat and immediately poured himself a glass of wine. 

“Desperate times require desperate measures, huh?” Baekhyun chuckled.

“You’ve got no idea,” he sighed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his backpack. “Please tell me you smoke, I’m a social smoker and if I do it alone I feel even more pathetic.”

“Sure,” he said and took one. Chanyeol opened the balcony door, letting the chilly air into the apartment, he handed Baekhyun the Zippo lighter as he closed it behind them. “So—uhm—you went through a break-up recently, right?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked.

Baekhyun considered his options. “Yes? Jongdae didn’t even have to tell me.”

Chanyeol deeply inhaled the smoke, Baekhyun felt light-headed just seeing it. 

“If you leave any ash behind, like the last time, I’m gonna make you lick it off! Fuckin' smokers!” Jongdae shouted at them from the sidewalk under the balcony, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. At least he didn't tell them to get off his lawn.

“Fuck you!” Chanyeol flipped him off and immediately burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the estate. “I’m sad and apparently everyone can see it! I feel excused!”

"And I'm keeping him company! Two sad bastards are better than one!" Baekhyun chimed in, making Jongdae shake his head.

“My threat also applies to you!” 

“You know I’d be into it!” Baekhyun shouted in response making Chanyeol choke on the smoke he’d just inhaled. He looked a bit baffled. 

Jongdae didn't answer him and instead entered the apartment building. 

Baekhyun noticed that his cigarette went off in the meantime. Chanyeol measured him up, the look on his face could only be described as bewildered. 

"What?" 

"Nothing," he chuckled. 

Baekhyun finished smoking feeling dizzy, he stubbed it on the empty jar standing on the windowsill that served as an impromptu ashtray. He looked around the already furnished apartment, his design still sketched on the living room wall. It made his chest swell up with pride. Jongdae waited for him to finish it.

What stood out to him, even more, was the freshly varnished, light, wooden floor, matching TV stand, and a coffee table that contrasted with a deep-red tasseled rug. Maybe Jongdae took Baekhyun’s suggestions about an accent color a bit too seriously. 

“Alright,” Chanyeol said, sitting on the couch and pulling a bottle of Fireball and some juice from his backpack. Jongdae joined Baekhyun on the floor instead. “We’re playing  _ Never Have I Ever. _ ”

“No,” Jongdae protested. “You’re gonna get fucked up and cry.”

“Isn’t it what life is all about?” 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“Never have I ever gone to Catholic school,” Baekhyun said and watched Jongdae as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, he didn’t even look fazed. 

“You know what? High school is traumatic for any gay person, but my parents decided to make it even worse for me by sending me to a school that was led by people who thought that showing us Irish sex-ed PSAs was a good idea,” he said and downed the shot, his face twisting in disgust. “To this day I remember  _ ‘When a man and a woman hold each other very close and give each other a long kiss and a warm hug, something happens. The sperm comes into the man’s penis’ _ ,” he said in a fake Irish accent, Baekhyun couldn’t decide whether it was a good impression or not. “‘ _ It may sound strange to you, but God has made it very lovely’ _ ,” he continued.

“How old were you when you saw that PSA?” Baekhyun asked, still laughing.

“Oh yeah, that’s the best part, we were sixteen.”

Chanyeol choked on a handful of chips he was chewing. “Never have I ever had sex with a person in this room,” he said seemingly in an act of revenge.

"At this rate,  _ I'm  _ gonna end up wasted and crying in my bathroom," Jongdae said as he poured two shots.

“Count me in,” Baekhyun added.

"I knew it!" Chanyeol exclaimed.

"I don't think we were hiding it," Baekhyun said, suddenly very aware of the fact that his legs were draped over Jongdae's and their shoulders were touching.

"No," Jongdae said as he shook his head and handed Baekhyun the glass. “Cheers!”

Baekhyun clung their glasses and quickly downed the whiskey, he didn’t even give Jongdae the time to reach for some apple juice before he drew them together. Jongdae tasted bitter.

"This is bullying," Chanyeol said from his seat. Baekhyun wished he could see his expression, but Jongdae was very focused on getting his full attention with the way he sucked on his tongue. "I'm a heartbroken man! Do you want me to start playing more Radiohead on my guitar?" 

The pair immediately drew apart. 

"Don't, I'm in a good mood," Baekhyun said, making Chanyeol laugh.

The doorbell rang, making Baekhyun look around the room, he didn't know they were expecting guests. Jongdae got up to open the door, leaving him alone on the floor.

"We made it in time, right?" an unknown voice asked from the hallway. 

"Yeah, it's twenty to midnight," Jongdae said. "Don't worry," he laughed a bit too loud. 

"You're already tipsy?" Baekhyun was sure he heard Minseok's voice, which meant that the other person was probably… 

"Hello." A short man dressed in a soft-looking cardigan and a button-up shirt waved at them through the door. Somehow he dressed precisely the way Baekhyun imagined, the exact opposite of Minseok's sweatpants and baseball caps.

"Junmyeon!" Chanyeol welcomed him. "You need to choose, Team Couch or Team Floor, Jongdae doesn't have enough seats yet." 

Junmyeon sat next to Baekhyun on the floor and introduced himself. He seemed pleasant, soft-spoken, exactly the type of person Baekhyun was scared to make friends with. 

"Are we gonna continue the disaster of a game that was our version of  _ Never Have I Ever _ ?" Jongdae asked joining the two men on the floor after turning on the music and putting the newly brought snacks on the coffee table. 

"You're only saying that because at that rate  _ you _ were the one who was going to have a hangover tomorrow," Chanyeol accused him, making the rest of the group laugh. 

"I'm not even denying that!" 

They played a few rounds, but this time Junmyeon became the victim of their sophisticated method of bullying. And while they reduced the size of shots, his face quickly started to turn a cute shade of pink. Baekhyun’s most genius move was playing  _ Never have I ever broken into someone’s house. _

“I need to learn the backstory—”

“Guys, midnight’s in two minutes!” Minseok said from the couch, looking at the digital clock. Chanyeol ran to the kitchen to get the cheap champagne, Jongdae put five tall glasses on the coffee table. 

Baekhyun and Junmyeon just looked at each other and laughed. Someone turned on the Zenith TV to know the exact time, the countdown blaring through the speakers.

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

Chanyeol opened the bottle, the cap making a small dent in Jongdae’s ceiling. 

"You're dead," he said as he handed him the glass.

Baekhyun looked at Jongdae realizing that he felt happy for the first time in a while, probably since he left him in that hotel room.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“I’m telling you—he used to be punk. That’s why I had a crush on him,” Jongdae slurred pointing at Junmyeon.

“He’s lying!"

"I'm not lying, I have proof! You may have been too high to remember it, but I went to fucking prom with you! I have pictures." 

"You went with Wendy! Not with me!" 

"And you with Joohyun! But we both know the truth was they went with each other, they ditched us as soon as they could!"

Baekhyun listened to them bicker and was about to lose it, his stomach starting to hurt from laughing so much. Chanyeol and Minseok were playing Mario Kart on Jongdae's Super Nintendo in the background, their swearing much quieter than what was happening by the coffee table. He didn’t know how they ended up talking about Jongdae’s and Junmyeon’s high school days but it was too entertaining to stop them.

“Fuck, I have pictures! I took the photo album with me,” Jongdae exclaimed as he got up from the floor, his moves unsure. He took a look at his bookshelf and came back with a thick, dark-green album. Junmyeon looked terrified. 

Jongdae flipped through the first few pages. “Please don’t mind the child pornography,” he said covering up his baby pictures. Junmyeon tried to take away the album.

“Have mercy on me,” he pleaded.

“Never.” 

“I have a mullet on my old driver’s license photo, if you show me your prom pictures, I’ll expose myself too,” Baekhyun offered in a sudden surge of wanting to experience public humiliation. “Deal?”

Junmyeon reached out his hand. “Deal.”

“Alrighty folks, time to relive our awkward teenage years.” Jongdae took out a handful of photos from the album and set it aside, making the two glasses sitting on the table jiggle. He revealed the first one.

It was a typical prom group photo from the mid-80s, which meant it was beautifully ridiculous. It depicted four boys standing against a blue, creased background with white clouds for contrast. The photographer must have lined them up depending on the color of their suit because they went from lightest to darkest, faded-grey to black. Before them stood a railing covered in pale-pink ribbon, meant to look like a bridge maybe? Baekhyun had no idea why but he found it hilarious. 

“Who’s the one in the sunglasses?” he asked, trying not to burst into laughter. 

“Me,” Junmyeon said very quietly, making Jongdae laugh so hard Minseok deliberately decided to fall behind in Mario Kart to see whether he was all right. 

“Why the fuck?” 

“I was so high in this picture, you could practically see it,” he said hiding his face in his hands. “I was going through my rebellious phase and I just didn’t give a fuck—”

“—I mean, I can see your, very short, attempt at a mohawk, that goes without saying,” Baekhyun cut in.

“Yeah, boys couldn’t have long hair at our school, that was all I was allowed. I had blond hair back then, I blame everything on the bleach.”

“What does it have to do with anything?” Chanyeol questioned but he didn’t look away from the TV.

“Anyway, I smoked some weed with friends under the bleachers and then went to take the prom pictures,” Junmyeon continued. “Again, I think I need to stress the fact that I smoked way too much and looked very out of place, so our other friends, Minho and Taemin, managed to get a pair of sunglasses for me. They are the two in the middle. To this day I can’t believe I didn’t get caught,” Junmyeon said, hiding his face in a cushion. 

"Didn't you have a small Bible with like a carved out inside so you could sneak in cigarettes?" Jongdae asked him, suddenly remembering something. 

"I still probably have it somewhere. The only useful skill I acquired in that school was the ability to creatively smuggle things in, the downside was the nicotine addiction," Junmyeon mumbled.

“Shitty, thin Bible paper is apparently good for rolling blunts,” Baekhyun said. “Whenever I’m in a hotel, I check if there are any missing pages on the back of the Bible. Similar idea, I guess.” He smiled at Junmyeon. 

“Can I adopt you?” Junmyeon’s eyes sparkled.

“So you’re on the left?” Baekhyun asked Jongdae.

He nodded. “I just look like a fetus, no embarrassing stories from me.”

“A very cute fetus though,” Baekhyun felt like he needed to emphasize that. "Do you have any pictures with the girls?"

Jongdae showed him the rest of the photos depicting him and Junmyeon standing against the same background with two girls with very puffy hair. 

"You need to remember that Catholic schools have their own set of weird rules and traditions," he said sitting up and dragging Baekhyun with him.

"What do you mean?" 

"Six inches for the Holy Spirit!" Junmyeon cheered. 

"Exactly! You see, we couldn't just dance how you'd normally do during prom." Jongdae demonstrated by taking Baekhyun's hand and starting to slow dance with him to the Mario Kart music. "No, no, you needed to leave some space for the Holy Spirit in between you two." He extended his arms.

Baekhyun's stomach was starting to hurt from laughter.

Jongdae smiled at him mischievously, his eyes glinting. “Your turn.”

Baekhyun pulled out his wallet from the back pocket and took out his driver’s license. On the picture he looked younger, his androgynous features only amplified by the peculiar haircut. “I liked David Bowie a bit too much, still do, and a few very nice lesbians tried to hit on me, end of the story. Honestly, I’m not even that embarrassed, I’d do it again,” he said looking at Junmyeon to make him feel better. 

"Don't get me wrong, I don't regret the mohawk, maybe a little bit, just this picture. I may not look like it, but I still blast Black Flag and Mudhoney in my apartment—"

"He definitely does!" Minseok cut in.

"I still do it, I just got myself a bunch of locally made button-ups, found a normal job, and only wear my jacket with patches when I go to shows. I got a bit boring over the years, that's all." He shrugged, seemingly having said everything there was to explain. ”And you, Min, listen to Ayn Rand’s biggest fans! You legally can’t judge me!”

Baekhyun gave Jongdae a confused look. 

“He means  _ Rush _ , you know  _ 2112 _ ?”

“No." Baekhyun shook his head. "Like 1312?” 

He shook his head looking at Junmyeon. “Nooo, definitely no.”

Baekhyun couldn't understand why, but he felt a sudden sting of jealousy in his chest. These people seemed so close, so dear, and precious to each other. He didn’t have anyone like that, not a single close friend. Baekhyun had always easily drifted apart from people because he never felt that he was enough for them, as an acquaintance, friend, boyfriend, son.

There was no logic to it, just the heavy feeling burning in his chest reminding him that he wasn't enough, even for himself—maybe especially for himself. It was frustrating, pointless, irrational too, and he didn't know how to stop it. It felt paralyzing.

Loneliness was comforting to Baekhyun, because meeting other people made him feel lacking, like it was impossible for him to ever belong. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Jongdae looked at him very intently the next morning, well, afternoon technically. It was after two PM, the sun already hanging low in the sky. The rest of the guests had already said their goodbyes and gone home, leaving them alone in Jongdae's kitchen. Baekhyun felt awful for the way he  _ still _ envied everyone in Jongdae’s closest group of friends. He wanted the same thing, to be close to someone.

"What's wrong?" Jongdae asked, his expression worried. "Did something happen?"

Great, now he was also making Jongdae feel bad. Baekhyun took a sip of his coffee in an attempt to delay the incoming answer.

"Your friends are really lovely," he said laconically.

"But?" 

"I'm an awful person." There was no avoiding it, it was the truth.

Jongdae furrowed his eyebrows and made an expression like he was trying to understand a very complicated instruction manual. "How exactly did you arrive at this conclusion?" 

Baekhyun felt like he was about to overflow, it was so obvious and Jongdae refused to see it, he wasn't going to acknowledge it in any way. "I don't know, I—I see all these happy, successful people and the only thing going through my mind is why am I not like them? Where did I fuck up when I'm sure I've been doing everything correctly? Why can't I be happy for others, Jongdae? Why do I want everything for myself?" He tried to put his scrambled thoughts together.

"Let me reiterate, the  _ fuck  _ are you on about?" Despite his harsh words, he sounded genuinely concerned. 

Baekhyun felt the sting of tears in his eyes. "I think I just understood just how unhappy I am and I don't know how to change it! I've been like this for so long and I have gotten used to it. I feel so ripped off by life," he said, realizing he no longer wanted to cry or to pity himself. He felt motivated to change, not in any concrete way, he was just buzzing with the intent to do something—anything with himself.

Jongdae laughed, but he didn't look relieved in the slightest. "Who doesn't?" He got off from the counter he was sitting on and hugged Baekhyun from behind, his chin resting on his shoulder. "If you ever want to talk about this, just know that I'm willing to listen. Always." 

Baekhyun wondered when was the last time he actually considered being honest with someone. He wanted Jongdae to get to know  _ him,  _ not this made-up version of himself—seemingly flawless, and perfectly adapted to everything life threw at him—he presented to the rest of the world. He was bored with pretending.

Jongdae took his hand and led him to the living room. As it turned out, this time around, he had a lot of paint on him, so much in fact that Baekhyun felt overwhelmed. He didn't know  _ what _ to paint now.

"You bought me yellow paint," Baekhyun said like it was the nicest thing someone had ever done for him. It wasn't that far off.

"And dark blue, some orange and white too. I saw the design you sketched on my wall and picked the colors I thought would look good. Did I do a good job?” He tilted his head and smiled at Baekhyun with a hopeful expression on his face. 

He reciprocated. "You did amazing."

Baekhyun started working on the design as soon as Jongdae spread out the cover foil on the floor to protect his dear, wooden floor panels. 

"We need to paint  _ all  _ of this blue," he said to Jongdae, pointing at basically half the wall.

"All?" 

"Chanyeol left his wine, it shouldn't be that painful." 

Truth be told, it really wasn't, even if you took the wine out of the equation. They worked rather quickly, laughing and bickering along the way, splattering the paint everywhere. Painting always calmed Baekhyun down, grounded him in a way and helped him process his feelings. And that was exactly what he needed right now. Baekhyun didn't know what to do with himself, he knew he was unhappy, that much was obvious, but what he should do with that information was the problem. 

_ How to even start changing your life? Where should he begin?  _

Baekhyun dramatically swung his paint roller. "What did you major in, Jongdae?" he asked, trying to distract himself. 

"I majored in," he paused for dramatic effect, "theatre studies! I'm a professional theatre kid." He smiled at Baekhyun. "And you?"

"And I'm a professional college dropout!"

Jongdae turned around to face him, the paint roller dripping onto the tray he was holding.

"I dropped out two times in total! My parents made me drop out of art school, and then they made me finish my business degree to go to law school, a place I also dropped out of," he laughed. 

Jongdae's expression changed. "Is this why you moved to Portland?"

Baekhyun immediately regretted everything he said, it wasn't his intention to actually reveal any true information to Jongdae, but it was too late now. He couldn't back off, he had to tell the truth.

"Yeah." He nodded, lying through his teeth. But was it really considered lying if he had changed his mind along the way? "I kind of don't know what I should do here. I feel like I got lost on my way to this city," he confessed.

"No offense, but I think everyone can see that," Jongdae laughed. "It's pretty obvious. You act like a little kid who can't find his way around the Walmart vegetable section."

"Is that  _ your  _ childhood trauma?" Baekhyun tried to change the topic.

"Maybe." Jongdae shrugged as he continued painting the wall dark blue. "I'm just worried about you, you know? Baekhyun, I can see that something's wrong. I admit that I don't know you very well—I might be wrong here, but you aren't subtle. You're utterly unhappy but you don't know how to change it, let me try to help you. Please, don't try to disappear again," he said not realizing how much these words meant to Baekhyun. 

"You don't think I'm an awful person?"

"I don't know you, Baekhyun, I can't tell you that. And even if I did, it really wouldn't mean much," he said firmly. "Also, I think we've already established that we both can actually be serial killers—"

"You're supposed to be the Zodiac killer!" Baekhyun cut in, chuckling.

"Yeah," Jongdae laughed. "I don't think you envy people—or rather, I don't think you envy them for the wrong reasons if that's possible. You sound like you just want to be content with yourself, there's nothing wrong with that. You shouldn't guilt-trip yourself for wanting to be okay. Or at least, that's what I think, make of that what you will." Jongdae looked at him with affection.

Baekhyun didn't know what to say to him, he continued painting his side of the wall until he ran out of paint.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"Hello," the older version of Jongdae said to him as he tried to fish out the keys from the pocket of his coat.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes. "It's  _ you _ again."

"Indeed." The man smiled at him with a distant sadness in his eyes. 

"Are you my Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come or something? It's already January, you're late," he snickered. "Why do you keep appearing anyway?"

"I've told you, I wanted to see you again."

The same excuse, boring.

"That doesn't explain anything, I understand nothing, dude," Baekhyun sighed. "Can you at the very least prove to me that you're actually from the future? And not just a guy who happens to look like an older version of my friend? Or even a hallucination? Maybe I'm going insane, who knows."

Not-Jongdae pondered for a moment. "What day is it?"

"January second, 1996?" 

"Oh God, I might be way off here... But I think, I'm pretty sure—you'll meet Mongryong soon," he said and vanished, again, making Baekhyun want to punch a wall in frustration.

"Who the fuck is Mongryong?" Baekhyun shouted, his voice echoing through the empty hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hah, turns out radiohead references were here for a reason


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the minor violence warning is for this chapter, there's also very minor mention of blood!

Mongryong was a welsh corgi who appeared on his doorstep a week later. Baekhyun was about to go to Jongdae's apartment to work on the mural when he opened his front door and saw something run next to his feet. He quickly turned around, closing the door behind him. 

There was a dog sitting in the middle of his small living room. Baekhyun was baffled to say the least. 

"Hi there, buddy," he said to the dog who barked at him in response. "Are you lost?" Baekhyun sat on the floor and reached out his hand for the dog to smell it.

He took a look at the collar but there was only a nametag, _Mongryong._

"That fucker was right," he muttered so the dog wouldn't hear him swear. "Fuck."

A very cute corgi aside, Baekhyun felt terrified. The man was right, he really was and it was making him panic. 

"I mean, I told you. It's your problem that you didn't believe me from the get-go," Baekhyun heard him say from the couch. A shiver went down his spine.

He turned around to face the—time traveler? His omniscient hallucination? Sure, it was a description as good as any. 

"Why do you keep appearing? Do I have a universe to save? Am I the next John Connor or some shit?" Baekhyun mentally scolded himself for cursing in front of the dog.

The man laughed. "I keep telling you, I just miss you, Baekhyun. I don't have an ulterior motive, no advice to give you, nothing. I'm just a bystander, watching your life unfold."

"That makes even less sense."

Jongdae shrugged. "I'm not here out of my volition if that's what you mean. I don't know how I keep appearing before you or even how it started—okay, I might know the reason."

"Then tell me," Baekhyun demanded.

"I think it's too soon—it's not the right time yet. I'm sorry," he said as he vanished yet again, leaving Baekhyun confused.

He wanted to scream in frustration.

"And what am I gonna do with you, huh?" he asked Mongryong. 

The dog tilted his head.

"I know that I have to look for your owner, but you're so cute." He sighed and got up.

Baekhyun looked around his apartment building, asked his neighbors and bystanders but no one was looking for a corgi. He decided to start making posters. Pretty ironic considering that there probably were people making similar posters with his picture instead.

_Have you seen this man? If you have any information, please contact the local authorities._

There were people looking for him, or at least he hoped so, it made him feel better in a perverse way. No one cared for him when he was in California, but now that he was gone maybe someone did. Someone must've noticed. 

He wanted people to note his absence more than his presence.

Baekhyun heard his telephone ring.

"Weren't you supposed to be here half an hour ago? Or am I confusing the dates?" Jongdae asked instead of hello.

"No, no, you're right. It's just—I acquired a dog?"

"What?"

"I was about to go to you, I swear. I opened my front door and—uhm—a dog ran into my apartment? Right, Mongryong?" he asked and the dog barked in agreement. "You heard that? He agrees with me," Baekhyun laughed.

"Do you have—well, anything? A collar, a leash, or a doggie bed?"

"I have like one pillow, Dae. Don't expect such luxuries from me."

"What do you have in your apartment then?" Jongdae sounded worried.

"Not much, that's for sure," Baekhyun laughed.

"Give me your address and I'll get back to you soon, okay?"

Baekhyun smiled despite himself, feeling strange warmth spread from his chest through his whole body. Mongryong came closer to him and tried to get his head under Baekhyun's hand to demand pets. 

"You're shameless," he laughed. The dog just showed him his belly in response, as if he heard Baekhyun and agreed with him.

Baekhyun had never had a dog before as his parents were never particularly fond of animals, but he always wanted one. Maybe this was his chance.

"Okay, so the dog is real," Jongdae said as he petted Mongryong with his free hand, the other holding the shopping bag.

"He barked at you, of course, he's real," Baekhyun laughed as Jongdae stepped into his hallway.

"But what's with the—apartment? How did you manage to make it this bad in such a short amount of time?" Jongdae asked and put the groceries on the kitchen counter. He looked bewildered.

"What do you mean?" Baekhyun didn't understand his reaction at all.

"No offense, but you live like this?" Jongdae pointed at the stack of Red Bull cans laying on the floor.

"Yes?" Baekhyun wasn't a clean freak, but his living space wasn't _that bad_ . Sure, there were dishes piling up in his sink, some cans laying on the floor, paint splatters on the walls, dirty laundry scattered on the bedroom floor, stacks of art supplies laying everywhere... Okay, maybe it was just a tiny bit _bad._

"This is some _I'm having an existential crisis_ school of design. I'd know, college was tough," Jongdae said, trying to outsass himself as always.

"I think you're overreacting," Baekhyun denied.

"What have you eaten for dinner today?" Jongdae crossed his arms and looked at him intently as he kicked a lonely Red Bull can next to his feet.

Baekhyun didn't answer because he still hadn't had dinner that day or yesterday for that matter.

"You may have a point," he said embarrassed, expecting Jongdae to scold him for some reason.

Instead, he smiled at Baekhyun. "I'm gonna help you clean up after we take your new _roommate_ for a walk and we eat something, alright?" Jongdae said seemingly both to Baekhyun and Mongryong.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"Oh, you're definitely going through it," Jongdae remarked as he opened Baekhyun's kitchen cabinet that was filled entirely with rice, pasta, and instant noodles, which admittedly weren't much different.

"I may also be a very shitty cook.”

"That tends to go together though."

"Listen, the last time I had to cook for myself was in college and it's been some time since then." Baekhyun shrugged, deciding to abandon the facade. He'd been honest with Jongdae almost since the beginning, there was no point to it.

"I'm very confused as to what you did for a living before moving to Portland," Jongdae said, sounding very amused.

"I was an HR manager," Baekhyun said flatly, making Jongdae drop the bag of rice he was holding.

"Can you—how?"

"Despite what my former colleagues may tell you, I didn't sleep my way to the top. It was simply a case of good, old-fashioned nepotism!"

"Ah, yes, we need to keep our traditions alive," Jongdae chuckled.

"I wasn't qualified in the slightest, but since I refused to continue going to law school, my dad had to do something with me," he explained.

"Why didn't you move out, you're an adult, you're able to support yourself, right?" Jongdae asked, trying to wrap his head around this mess of a situation. 

Baekhyun knew this question was unavoidable. "For the first year I stayed in Sacramento to take care of my dad, he was getting treatments for a heart condition he had since birth," Baekhyun explained. "And after that, I just stayed there as a force of habit. I don't mean that he's dead or anything—he's alive and probably annoying any poor soul that comes his way," he chuckled.

Jongdae's expression turned beyond apologetic for some reason. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought this up," he said, sounding regretful. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Baekhyun felt something warm bloom in his chest. "If you show me a way to make pancakes that doesn't utilize a store-bought mix, I'll love you forever. The last time I tried to make them myself I ended up with a very shitty attempt at crepes that were too fragile to flip them over in one piece."

"The first pancake tends to always come out shitty, though, it's just how it is."

"You're underestimating me, all of them were too fragile to flip." 

"Oh, I see," Jongdae chuckled as he squeezed Baekhyun's hand and started to look for appropriate ingredients in the kitchen. "Well, show me how you did it so we can see where you fucked up." 

"It's not a fuck-up, I just interpreted the recipe differently," Baekhyun laughed, trying to get himself into a better mood.

"Did you follow an actual recipe?" 

"Yes?" Baekhyun tried to convince him. "A very misremembered one apparently." 

Jongdae just laughed at him as he shook his head in disbelief, his eyes sparkling with affection, the shallow wrinkles around them only adding to his charm. The sun shining through the window behind him contrasted with his navy blue sweater, making the color look washed-up from Baekhyun’s perspective. 

"This is suppressed to be for four people," Jongdae said and cracked the second egg into the previously prepared bowl, carefully setting the eggshell aside. "But when you’re sad, you count as double." 

Baekhyun dangled his legs while sitting on the kitchen counter, his back touching the cupboard. He observed Jongdae mix the ingredients with a whisk of a mysterious origin—Baekhyun was sure he didn’t own such a thing. 

Jongdae poured the batter onto the heated pan and the first pancake really did come out not looking quite right. “This is the part where we devour our firstborn just as Saturn did with his children,” he said and cut the pancake in half only to immediately put it in his mouth.

Baekhyun couldn’t help but be reminded of that one Francisco Goi painting.

“I’m sure I’m repeating myself, but I’m really quite amazed by your ability to always circle back to Greek mythology,” he laughed, reaching out for his piece.

“One of my many talents.” Jongdae grinned at him.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"You know why people do this _'he loves me, he loves me not'_ with daisies in particular?"

Jongdae shook his head.

"It's actually two flowers, the yellow disk and petals are separate. That's why—it's supposed to represent true love." 

Baekhyun leaned on the table standing in the staffroom. He’d agreed to help Minseok work behind the bar for a night, but he was starting to have second thoughts. 

Minseok seemed nice, he really did, but he was also very protective of his friends and Baekhyun didn’t know how he fit into their little group. At this point, he probably still didn’t. And that was the scariest thing, he wanted to belong, for the first time in a while he wanted to be a part of a, however small, community. Baekhyun felt like an awkward twelve-year-old going to middle school for the first time, wishing for his classmates to like him. 

"Kinda cheesy." Jongdae poked the plastic flower standing in one of the vases. “Shouldn’t you be behind the bar and not telling me gardening facts?”

“I’m gonna remind you about this conversation the next time you’re telling me about Shakespeare or some other dude,” Baekhyun laughed as he left the backroom.

“It was about Chekhov!” 

While Baekhyun absolutely couldn’t remember any cocktail recipes besides Screwdriver and vodka soda, Minseok was fine with him only standing by the keg and serving beer to the concert-goers. Baekhyun didn’t complain, he needed the cash anyway.

“So, how’s life?” he asked Minseok, who looked like he wanted to dematerialize from the face of the Earth.

“You know, I’m dead—I mean, I’m alive, but like dead inside.” Minseok took a look at a pile of notes laying under the counter and groaned.

“Man, if this isn’t like a constant theme in my life, I don't know what else is,” Baekhyun chuckled. He looked at the papers. “Law school?” 

“I’m trying to get an associate degree—”

“Ah, you wanna be a paralegal?” Baekhyun cut in.

Minseok nodded. 

“I don’t miss this.” Baekhyun pointed at the notes. “All power to you, but I feel like if I look at this for long enough it will suck my life force out of me. What are you planning to do after getting a degree?”

“My main goal is getting a job at some local nonprofit. I’m basically already the supportive, gay uncle for a lot of the kids that come here.” He gestured broadly. “I may as well become that professionally. But we’ll see what happens. I don’t know, I want to help people, I like doing that.”

"I wish I had known more people like you when I was growing up. God, life really isn't fair," Baekhyun repeated the same thing he had told Jongdae a few weeks ago. It was like a mantra for him, a thing he said over and over again when he didn't know how to justify other people's behavior. It brought him comfort.

Minseok didn't seem impressed, the corners of his mouth hanging low. "I guess it isn't fair," he said as he poured beer into a tall glass and handed it to the client, "that sometimes _you_ have to be the adult you needed when you were growing up. Sometimes there's no one else to fill that void." 

Baekhyun nodded, trying to process Minseok's point. "People aren't clocks, we can't be fixed by replacing the battery or a gear." He took a sip of his drink. "Honestly, I don't think you can fix a person." 

"Well," Minseok began, his hands resting on the counter and playing with a plastic straw, "maybe you can't _fix_ people, but I don't know, maybe you can make their life better? That's what I've always thought. No one needs to be miserable," he said looking at Baekhyun. "I'm sorry for treating you like shit earlier."

He inhaled deeply, the air in his lungs crushing him like lead. "It's alright, I think I deserved it." 

"Nah, I mean—what you think is kinda irrelevant," Minseok chuckled. "I just think I should've been a little more empathetic towards you, that's all. Kill them with kindness and all that."

Baekhyun burrowed his head in his hands. "Fuck, you people scare me sometimes. You're too functional! Please don't tell Jongdae, but seriously, he's so kind? Like, I could transform into a sad, self-pitying puddle of despair and he'd offer me genuine compassion and understanding! And he would make me pancakes! He had made me pancakes!" he ranted. 

Minseok smiled softly at him. “He cares about you—I mean, you’re probably aware of that, but seriously, Baekhyun, I wish you two well. Maybe you can bring out the best in each other. I'll always be overprotective of Dae," he stated. "It's just how it's gonna be. We're the same age, but I kinda feel like I watched him grow up. I've seen him transform from this angry and dissatisfied-with-himself boy that basically emitted the ‘ _I hate my dad’_ energy everywhere he went, into a kind and empathetic man.”

“He still emits the ‘ _I hate my dad’_ energy,” Baekhyun laughed.

“Yeah, that didn’t really go away, it’s a permanent feature I’m afraid.” He grinned at Baekhyun. “If you want to, this is me officially welcoming you into our weirdly functional family, or whatever we are, I genuinely don’t know.” He shrugged. “But again—you can always ask for help. We won’t turn you down.”

Baekhyun turned around to look at the people coming into the bar to see the concert. “These guys look suspicious.” He pointed at two young men with iron cross patches sewn onto their jackets.

Minseok groaned. “Oh, for fucking sure. I’m gonna warn the bouncer. You have a keen eye, thanks,” he said as he went around the bar.

“Back in California, I worked in a sketchy pub once, at least you don’t have cult members leaving flyers here.” Baekhyun chuckled bitterly.

“Cult members?”

“Yeah, there’s one that caught my attention because they kept leaving posters and flyers even though they are from… San Diego, I believe? But they had meetings in Sacramento too. They’re called _Heaven’s Gate_ if you’ve ever heard of them.”

Minseok shook his head. 

“I have a bad feeling about them, I think that’s why they stick out in my memory so much.”

"I mean—it's a cult, nothing good comes out of them. Some would say the same goes for organized religion in general, but he's thankfully somewhere over there," Minseok said pointing at Jongdae standing by the stage. "And I'm not entertaining that discussion on this fine, Friday night."

"He seems really conflicted on the topic." Baekhyun still vividly remembered their conversation in the motel, Jongdae looked so guilty back then.

"When I first met Dae he used to be one of those ‘ _Jesus was an anarchist’_ type of Christians? But it's been some time since then, and I really don't feel knowledgeable enough on the topic to discuss it with him," Minseok said after he notified the bouncer of the two men who seemed really interested in WWII history. 

“Me neither… but I can always listen to him, that’s the least I can do.” Baekhyun just knew his smile didn’t look genuine. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun looked over at the stage, he could feel the bass in his chest. Something wasn’t right, the men from before had disappeared.

“Have you seen Mark?” Minseok asked him, trying to scream over the music.

“Who?”

“Like—about my height? Glasses? I think he was wearing a hoodie?”

Baekhyun looked at the floor trying to gather his thoughts. “The kid that was hanging out with the bouncer—Johnny, right? No, I haven’t seen him. Why are you asking?”

Minseok shrugged. “I’m kinda babysitting him? He’s underage and _technically_ shouldn’t be here since the show is _21 and up_ , but I’m a good, fake, older brother to him so I let him hang out here. If you see him, let me know.”

When the gig finished, Baekhyun kept an eye on the exit—which was a good idea because he saw Mark there, along with the two skinheads from before.

“Min?” He started walking towards the half-doors. “To get to the back entrance I need to get around the block, right?”

Minseok nodded.

“Unlock the backdoor, just in case. I’m gonna go and take care of this.” Baekhyun run towards the main doors before the other man could say anything. He didn’t have to do it, but it was a snap decision, almost a gut reaction. 

“Hello, gentlemen, what’s the matter?” he asked once he was already outside.

Baekhyun sized Mark up; he didn’t have a chance taking on two skinheads. There was no way.

“Go back inside, it’s none of your business,” one of the men slurred and pulled at Mark's hood, jerking him back.

Baekhyun managed to exhale quickly. “Fuck,” he muttered and swung his fist, feeling a jolt go through his entire arm upon contact with the man’s cheekbone. It didn’t even hurt when his knuckles caught on the zipper of his jacket.

“Run!” he screamed, preparing to deal another blow. Baekhyun kicked the second guy in the stomach with his heavy boot, turned around, and just fucking ran.

“Around the block!” 

It would have been an understatement to say it was difficult to run in combat boots, but Baekhyun felt the adrenaline ringing in his ears as loud as the church bells. He couldn’t even remember when they reached the back entrance or whether he locked the door behind them.

Baekhyun leaned on the door frame and slid down to the floor only to start laughing maniacally. “This certainly isn’t what I planned for tonight!” 

“You’re bleeding.” Mark pointed at Baekhyun’s right hand, his arm shaking.

“I mean, I punched a guy! That tends to happen!” Baekhyun laughed louder, his head touching the wall behind him. Everything felt so surreal like he was watching a movie in fast forward, every motion blurry and uncanny.

“Thank you,” Mark said quietly, his wide eyes locked on Baekhyun's face. “I—no, thank you, god, I don't even know your na—”

“Baek?” Jongdae came around the bar. He took a quick look at Mark and then at Baekhyun as he massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna go get a first aid kit.”

A few minutes later Jongdae crouched next to Baekhyun and disinfected the injury before he dressed it with gauze. “You know what? You deserve it,” he said and kissed Baekhyun’s knuckles, his lips lightly touching the torn skin.

“You’re such a sap.”

“And you’re really brave,” Jongdae said, affection sparkling in his eyes. “I really mean it, seriously, I—”

He didn’t finish his sentence because Baekhyun used his non-injured hand to draw him closer, their foreheads touching; he could feel Jongdae's breath on his cheek. 

It was Jongdae who kissed him first, his hand entangled in Baekhyun's hair and gently pulling at it. Baekhyun felt like his brain was melting.

Mark cleared his throat somewhere in the background. "I'm still here, just so you know," he laughed awkwardly.

Jongdae pulled them apart. "I'm aware," he said firmly. "Can you tell me how the fuck did this happen? My… friend had to get into a fight for you!"

"Your friend?" 

"This is none of your concern," Jongdae scoffed. "Answer me, Mark." A shiver went down Baekhyun's spine upon hearing Jongdae's authoritative tone of voice. 

"I don't know." Mark looked down. "They were just being dicks towards the band and I followed them outside… I'm such an idiot," he groaned. 

"If you thought you could take on two dudes, then yeah," Baekhyun agreed. "Seriously, I'm still in shock I didn't get punched. Probably because they didn't expect that we would try to run right away."

Mark nodded. "Thank you—I still don't know your full name." 

“I’m Baekhyun.” He smiled. “Now go, unless you want Dae to murder you. Minseok’s probably gonna do it anyway.”

Mark jumped at the opportunity and left the backroom immediately, his black hoodie blending into the darkness of the hallway.

“Is everything alright?” Jongdae asked him, still crouching on the floor.

“Even when I’m sitting I can tell that my legs feel like jelly,” he laughed. “So we’re gonna sit here for a bit because I don’t fancy intimately getting to know this floor.”

“Have you been in a fight before?” Jongdae asked him as he stood up to pour Baekhyun a glass of water. 

“Eh, you know, shit happens? I’ve done _some_ stupid stuff in my life, but I was a good kid for the most part. Have you?”

Jongdae stayed unnaturally quiet for a few seconds too long.

“No, you don’t say?” Baekhyun laughed a bit too loud.

“He deserved it…” Jongdae pouted.

“I believe you! Maybe I'm making an assumption here, but I'm guessing it was about Junmyeon?" 

Jongdae looked at him bewildered. "No! God, no, I don't think he even knows about this? Minseok knows but it's because he had to help me get out of that fight." 

"Wait, what happened then? You can't just leave it at that." 

"Unfortunately, I don't remember much? I was at a frat party and walked into a room where a couple had a screaming match, the next thing I remember is punching the guy because of something he said to his girlfriend. I don't know, not my finest moment." He shrugged, his shoulder touching Baekhyun's. 

"The more you talk about your past the wilder you sound. Like, I had this image of you in my head and it turns out to be, well—not accurate." 

What an understatement.

"It's been pointed out that I just have a thing for attracting… not misfits, that sounds weird—people who are a little bit lost. Honestly, I don't know why." Jongdae laid his head on the nearby box. "But if you think this is wild, man, you have seen nothing yet. Please see my best-worst drunk decision, my stick and poke! Because yeah, I have one!" 

"Show me!" Baekhyun demanded as Jongdae unbuttoned his flannel shirt and slid it down.

There was a small, not much bigger than a quarter, simplistic tattoo of a curled up fox on his shoulder. The lines were, surprisingly, not that wonky, maybe a little faded and in need of a touch-up. Baekhyun touched the freckled skin around it, trying to memorize the position of Jongdae's moles like one would stars in a constellation.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

It was the same night, a few drinks and hours later, when Baekhyun got his hands on one of the band members Polaroid camera. He couldn’t remember the context, but he managed to convince Jongdae to let him take a photo of him.

“I just don’t understand why,” he said, yet again poking the plastic flowers standing in the vase in the backroom.

“Do I need to write an essay, or something, explaining my feelings for you to understand that I like you? Or can you just take me at my word for once?” Baekhyun asked, holding the camera in his hands.

“Fine.”

Baekhyun arrived home in the early morning with Jongdae’s picture tucked into his wallet in between his two driver's licenses.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun felt Mongryong’s tongue on his cheek.

“I told you, I don’t like you _like that_ ,” he said and pressed his hands to his face. He must’ve fallen asleep while working because he was still holding a pencil in his hand. 

He heard someone tap on his car’s window. 

Baekhyun reluctantly opened his eyes and saw Jongdae measuring him up through the window of his car. He rolled down the window, the cold air hitting him right in the face.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping, working on a commission, having an art block, trying not to feel bad about myself—you know, the usual. Oh, I’m also drinking chocolate milk!” He lifted a half-gallon bottle to show Jongdae.

“But why in your car?”

“Someone told me that if you have an art block, you need to change your environment, so I did,” Baekhyun said and opened the door so Mongryong could greet Jongdae.

“There are parks? Public libraries? I mean, it’s a little too cold to sit in a park, but again—libraries exist. Aren’t you cold here anyway?” Jongdae asked, sounding worried.

“This baby has parking heating.” Baekhyun hit one of the seats with his hand. “I think the dude I bought it from used to sleep in it. I also had to peel off the Bill Clinton bumper stickers from the back, so there's that.”

“And now look at you, doing exactly the same thing.”

“I took a power nap! Despite what it looks like, I'm working,” he faked the outrage in his voice and looked at the bag Jongdae was holding. “What’s this?”

Jongdae laughed awkwardly. “I wanted to make dinner with you,” he said with some hesitation. 

Baekhyun got up and threw his arms around him. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“Do you even know how to make soup?” Jongdae asked him as he crouched by the kitchen counter and petted Mongryong. 

“I’m not that hopeless, thank you very much,” Baekhyun said. “As a matter of fact, I even acquired a recipe book recently. Take a look!!” 

Baekhyun didn’t have a bookshelf in his tiny apartment, he kept most of his belongings on an inflatable armchair. He walked to his couch and handed Jongdae a hardcover book he bought a few days ago, he had even tried a few of the simpler recipes. He’d only screwed one up. 

Jongdae looked genuinely impressed. He got up from the floor, washed his hands, and began to prepare the ingredients he had taken out of the bag beforehand. 

“It’s really hard to fuck up a chicken noodle soup, you only need to check up on it every ten or so minutes to see whether it’s not boiling over,” he said while chopping one particularly big carrot. 

Baekhyun hardly listened to him talk as he focused on not cutting his finger off along with the pieces of an onion. “You know what, I like this,” he said vaguely to Jongdae. “Whatever this is.”

“Everyone likes soup, Baek.”

The apartment walls echoed his loud laugh. “Not soup, I mean you—us. I like whatever we are.”

“We’re _soupmates_ ,” Jongdae deadpanned. 

Baekhyun groaned in response. “I take it back! I take it back, I hate this!”

“You don’t like my _pans_ ? But we need to _spice_ things up a bit,” he continued while adding salt and pepper to the broth.

“I should’ve never complimented you, you hold too much power over me now.”

“I like us too," Jongdae said, the sincerity ringing in his voice like a tiny bell. "I really do." 

Baekhyun didn't know what to say. “Why are feelings so fucking scary?” he groaned. “This a rhetorical question, I don’t expect you to have an answer.”

“Wow, you’re really generous today, I don’t have to answer your questions that deal with the essence of the human condition, thank you,” the unhinged sarcasm in Jongdae’s voice made Baekhyun’s day. 

“I mean, you just seem like a guy who would have a personal philosophy on this.”

“I’m a theatre guy, not an armchair philosopher, despite what I say sometimes." He shrugged. "Speaking of armchairs—what is this?" He pointed at the inflatable chair buried under Baekhyun's clothes.

“My wardrobe, I don’t even feel ashamed anymore. This is a lifestyle choice at this point.” Baekhyun left Jongdae by the kitchen counter to dramatically sit on the pile of striped polo shirts, a few pairs of light wash jeans, and definitely too many flannels. 

“Well, then I’m questioning your lifestyle choices.”

“Would it be the first time though?” he cackled loudly and looked over at the pot to see whether it was boiling over. “Right, Mongryong?”

The dog agreed with him. 

“Don’t drag Mongryong into this, he’s a decent puppy.” Jongdae joined him on the pile, but he managed to slide down on the floor almost immediately. “I give up. I can’t stand this, I hope you don’t mind.” He reached for one of the shirts and started folding it. 

Baekhyun did the same thing, carefully tucking in the fabric and making sure it laid flat in his hands. “I’ll make sure to clean up before your next visit.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, it’s just me being annoying, sorry,” he said, sounding embarrassed.

Baekhyun shook his head. “Let me put in some effort for you, okay? For once I want to be one that tries to impress you.”

Jongdae almost choked on the air. “I’m not trying to impress you?”

“Yeah, sure, _Mr._ _My Friend Has A Cool Motorcycle_. That was a classic move. What’s next? You’re gonna pretend to yawn when we watch a movie and _accidentally_ put your arm around my shoulder?” The expression on Jongdae’s face was worth more than a billion dollars to Baekhyun. 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over some very not subtle artist telling me that he wants to draw me,” Jongdae said as he almost threw a pair of jeans at Baekhyun.

“How is it possible that you remember every dumb thing I say, isn’t it exhausting?”

“Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because I listen to you? Because I think you're an interesting person, wild concept, I know." The eye-roll was almost audible in Jongdae's voice.

Baekhyun blinked in surprise, feeling aggressively complimented and the shirt he was holding fell out of his hands onto his lap. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to draw you."

It was Jongdae's turn to get flustered. "I mean, you were too drunk to lie, I guess." 

"No, seriously, I really do, Dae. Let me," Baekhyun said, looking into his eyes and moving closer. 

“I don’t understand why… There are a lot of other things you could draw.”

Baekhyun reached for one of his sketchbooks laying on the chair. “I like to draw my favorite things in the world, alright? And you know what those currently are—besides you of course?”

Jongdae shook his head. 

“This fluffy demon here.” He pointed at Mongryong. “And Scully from X-Files, so here is Mongryong as her.” He showed Jongdae one of the silly sketches he’d done on the last few days; Mongryong looked surprisingly good in a checkered blazer. “So please, if I have time and energy to draw things like these, there’s no good reason I wouldn’t want to draw you. I don’t write journals, I don’t like putting my thoughts down on paper—this is how I deal with reality.” Baekhyun smiled.

Jongdae didn’t have a chance to say anything in response because their soup boiled over and he had to run to turn off the gas burner.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“Do you think the ducks are laughing at us?” Jongdae asked as he attempted to climb on top of the monkey bars in the kids’ playground at the nearby park.

Baekhyun was hanging upside down from one of the shorter poles, his hands touching the ground. “I think they’re on a date, like us.”

He looked at the lilac sky spread out above them, the rare clouds were tinted pink or light orange, a couple of stars were already visible as well. Baekhyun exhaled deeply and spun around on the pole, his legs hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“I think you’re right? Because they’re fucking now,” Jongdae said like he was reporting the weather and not announcing the sex lives of those poor ducks to the world.

Baekhyun hummed in approval. “Waterboarding is a bit extreme for my taste? But whatever tickles your fancy.”

Jongdae took off one of his sneakers and casually threw it in Baekhyun's direction, probably aiming at his shoulder; he missed by a huge margin. Mongryong ran after the shoe and brought it back to Baekhyun in his teeth. 

“Good boy.” He hugged him in a sudden surge of affection. “What am I gonna do if I have to give you away?”

“How long has it been?”

“Over two weeks?”

“I don’t think anyone’s looking for him.”

“I mean, me too, but I don’t wanna get attached only to have my heart broken,” Baekhyun said, seemingly talking both about the dog and Jongdae.

“I don’t want to break your heart, Baek," Jongdae said, sounding somber, maybe tired as well. "But I don't want to get mine broken either and I can't find a solution to this." 

"Friends with benefits? But like the benefits are also emotional?” Baekhyun groaned. “I’m describing dating, aren't I?”

“Pretty much.”

Baekhyun laid down on the sand with Mongryong sitting right beside him. He looked at the sky again, feeling like if he reached high enough he could touch it. The sand was cold and smooth under his fingertips, almost reminding him of velvet. Baekhyun felt like he was sinking into it under the weight of the sky above him.

"I want to make you happy," he told Jongdae, taking sand into his fist and letting it slip through his fingers like his hand was an hourglass. "I don't care if it's as a friend or something more, I really don't. I only care that it's you." 

"I think I should be the one saying this," Jongdae chuckled.

"We can always try to make each other happy. It doesn't need to be one-sided, honestly, I don't think it should be." 

Jongdae didn’t say anything for a long time after that. 

"What did you wish for the first time we met? You know, upon the star?" he asked, making Baekhyun shift, he was starting to get cold.

"I wished to move on—I didn't want to be so caught up in the past anymore." He got up from the ground and walked up to Jongdae, his feet sinking into the sand with every step. "I think I'm ready for it." Baekhyun smiled at him.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

When Baekhyun woke up the next morning and went to the kitchen to make himself breakfast for the first time in a while, he noticed a small post-it note on his fridge.

_take your protein pills (breakfast) and put your helmet (hat) on! it’s cold outside! ps. you have a good music taste, i’ll have to raid your cd rack_

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

 _Dear Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come,_ Baekhyun wrote down on a piece of paper, _can you appear tonight? I have some questions._ He aggressively stuck the note on the fridge.

“I kind of hate the nickname you chose for me,” older Jongdae said instead of hello. “Can I at least be Marty McFly?”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes at him. "Do _you_ want to fuck your mom too? Freud would be very happy. Oedipus complex and daddy issues together at last."

Jongdae laughed. "Said a man with a _very healthy_ relationship with his father."

“That’s a low blow, even for you,” he snickered, but he had to admit that he weirdly enjoyed the banter. 

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know why you’re here—in my life,” Baekhyun repeated his standard demand. Honestly, at this rate people were going to land on Mars before he received an answer. 

“If you’re worried about that, I’m not looking for some IBM computer from the 70s,” Jongdae laughed.

Baekhyun almost made a splatter on the canvas where a tree should be. “A what? Why would you need a computer?”

Jongdae looked down at the floor. “I guess John Titor isn’t a thing yet, my bad. Please don’t panic about Y2K, it’s not gonna end in an apocalypse.”

“I’ll remember that?” Baekhyun said as he mixed another shade of green for his trees. “So here's my question. You told me, repeatedly, that you’re here just to see me, right?”

“You’d be correct.”

“Okay, but why? I mean—people need a reason to want to change or relive the past. They must regret, or miss, something so badly that it tears them up inside, preoccupies them like nothing else. What do you regret, Jongdae?” he used the man’s real name, even though it didn’t feel right to call him that. It wasn’t his _Jongdae,_ it was just some version of him Baekhyun felt almost no connection to.

“You can’t change the past, that’s not how it works. I’m not affecting the reality I’m from, I think I’m creating a new one,” he said instead of answering Baekhyun’s real question.

“Then why do you want to change, not even the past because—well, because by your own admission you can’t, but an alternative reality?” Baekhyun tried to corner him. “What do you regret so much and why am I involved?”

 _Do you regret meeting me? Am I a mistake?_ Baekhyun almost added but the words never left his head, the doubt forever making a home for itself there. 

“You’re misunderstanding me,” Jongdae assured him like he knew what was going through Baekhyun’s head. “This is just too early,” he muttered. “I can’t, not yet.”

“Whatever’s keeping you here, let it go, Jongdae.”

The man shook his head as he crossed his arms, his whole body looking so fragile as if even a single touch would make him crumble to pieces that could never be put back together.

“Why? Tell me!” Baekhyun started to lose his patience, he pointed at the man with his wet brush, letting the paint water dribble onto the floor. “I need to know if you want to keep appearing in my life, I need to know what is this horrible event I need to look out for!" 

Jongdae sighed and uncrossed his arms, looking drained. "There's no singular event, Baekhyun, there's just life. And you can't stop it, no one can," he said before vanishing.

"Can I at least know the fucking lotto numbers?" 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Post made by BBH <bbh@aol.com> on Wednesday 28.02.1996 in  alt.sci.time-travel 

**I met a time traveler**

I've been wondering whether I should write this post for some time, but I've tried everything I could think of and it didn't work out. There goes nothing I suppose.

A few months ago I met a man who looks, talks, walks, god, even laughs like my good friend. The catch is, I met him before I even talked to my friend for the first time and he looks about 20 years older than him. But I'm dead sure they are the same person, just from different realities, I guess? 

I've come to the conclusion that there are three possibilities: 

  1. I have a very peculiar stalker (the dude keeps following me around)
  2. I'm going insane (honestly, this is most likely option)
  3. He actually is from the future (he predicted I would find a dog, he even knew his name)



From: <zyx…@servtech.com>

on Wed, 28 Feb 1996 <bbh@aol.com> wrote:

> I'm going insane.

I hope you're doing well! 

I don't have any advice…maybe ask him about the presidential election? Or something important like that

Have you tried your local news board?

\------------------------------------------------------

The comments and opinions stated herein are mine alone,

and do not reflect those of my employer.

From: BBH <bbh@aol.com>

on Wed, 28 Feb 1996 <zyx…@servtech.com> wrote:

>Have you tried your local news board?

The people over at  alt.cities.portland  told me to post here. 

He told me about someone called John Titor, that he's looking for an IBM computer? But I don't know much detail. Honestly, I think he's screwing with me.

From: <kso…@aol.com>

on Wed, 28 Feb 1996 <bbh@aol.com> wrote:

>He actually is from the future (he predicted I find a dog, he even knew his name)

This is such a long shot, but considering the board we are on…and that you also posted this in  alt.cities.portland … Is the dog a welsh corgi?

From: orpheus

Someone remind me about this post in 20 years!

From: BBH <bbh@aol.com>

>Is the dog a welsh corgi?

This is getting spookier than before? Yes???

> Someone remind me about this post in 20 years!

If this usenet forum still exists and I'm well, I'll make a thread. This is a thing that's hard to forget.

From: <kso…@aol.com>

> Yes??? 

Does he have a metal name tag? And the name starts with M? 

Also, if you're from Portland or the suburbs, there's a guy who keeps making personal ads in the local newspapers, he says that he has experience with time travel. I don't know much about him, but if you see the ad, you can give him a call. 

From: o̶͔̍͐̍́͛̚͠ŗ̷̨̡̢̨̨̛͈͎̫̗͚̝̘͙͚̺͓̳̺͓̱̗̩̟̬̹͖̝̞͈̣̖̙̻͖͉̦͍̩̱̜͙̥͙̩̩̞͐̀̈́́͂̎͋̀̎̾̄̿̍̈̾̾̾̏̆͆̑͒͂̎̃̽̐̃͛̂̓̋͐̀̉̓̒́̄͊̎͛͒͌͘͝͝͝͝p̵̨̛̘̹̖̩̞͙͛̈́͑̿̂̈̏̒̏̑̈̀̐̈́̽̂́͋͗́̓͐̒͆͋͐̋͑͋͌̃̃̿̒͆̾͂́͛̎́͛̉̄̎̉́͘ͅh̴̨̧̨̡̨̢̛̞̦̖̱̱͓͙̯̘͙̱͚̬̙̬̮̲͍̲͎͓̳̮̯̩̗̮̘̞̞͍̫̳̄̈́̀͜ͅͅĕ̸̢̧̧̧̧̜͍̩̞̜͇͈̳̖̻̼̯͇̗͉̞̩̱̭̟͖̼̗̣̥̝͓̘̣̣̬̘̺͉̗͖̹̗̦̹͔͔͇̃̅̍̾̒͗͘͘ͅͅů̶̡̡̝͚̫̱̳̻̜̳̙̔̔̇̒̽̎̾̓̂̄͝͠͠s̶̡̧̧̛̤͉̯͍̩̰̲̲̤͖̟̰̩͖̥͇̻̝̃̽̋̌͑̔̽̑͗͆̇͂͆̊̽͐̐͋͑̅̿̔͑͂͂̇̋̇̄̓̾̅̍̈́̏̂͊͛͘

w̸͚̮̥̤̬̹̬͒͊̒̌̚̕͜h̷̡̲͍̱͈̯̜̳͎̲͋͊͛̉͒̈̿̕͝å̵̡͈̙̝̝̙̤̤͋̈́͑̽͒̑͑̆̕̚͠͠t̵̗̼̦̺̠̣̓̃̓͒͑̄̎̐̇̔̈́͛ͅ ̵͕̞̙̃a̵̡̺̜͈̋̿͑͛͜͠ŗ̵̹̹̥͉̝̲̬̹̪͖̓̄̽̾̈́̅͗̅̌͆̒̈́̈́̄̋̚͜͠͠e̷̛̛͚̹̰͓̱̟͈̺͓̠̥͇̖͉͖̳̦̙̠̦̯̓̒̄̔̐̈͛ͅ ̴̧̧͉̪̺̫̟̫͉̼̗̳̞̇̍̋̔̿͒͗̽̃͛̓̒̓̑̕͝y̶̥̲̯͒̄̎̈́̂͋̎̍̏̂̋͘͘͝͠o̶̜͈͚͑̓͗̆͐͜͝ų̶̧̡̰͇̱̱͈͔̻̹͇́̄͊͒͋͘͘͜͝ ̷̯̥̥͍̤̪͌͑̈́̂͛̌͌̌͛͐̒͒͑͂̀̿̕͜d̵̯̰̭̰̬͚̣̰̽̈́͗̚̕͝͠ͅơ̴̢̨̛̞̙̖̱̲͔͚͙̔̈́̊͋̏̂̎͆̊͌̋͂̕̕͘i̸̜͈̥̣̥̹̘͓̠̭̼͆̈̊̓̃̓̚͝ṇ̴̨̢̻̝̩̳̭͕̲̝̔̊͋̓͌̑g̷̪̯̘̾̅̓͌̋̒̌̚͠?̶̨̛̮͎̯̲̮̙̪̩̙̫̆͑͑͊̉̅̂̽́̀͋͒̂͆̉̓͐͘͘͜

From: <zyx…@servtech.com>

Have you asked him why did he go back in time? Maybe he's experiencing a time slip and it's not on purpose.

\------------------------------------------------------

The comments and opinions stated herein are mine alone,

and do not reflect those of my employer.

From: BBH <bbh@aol.com>

on Wed, 28 Feb 1996 <zyx…@servtech.com> wrote:

> it's not on purpose

He'd said that as well, but he also keeps saying that he wants to see me again. I don't know what to think about it.

> Does he have a metal name tag? And the name starts with M?

???Yes???

From: o̶͔̍͐̍́͛̚͠ŗ̷̨̡̢̨̨̛͈͎̫̗͚̝̘͙͚̺͓̳̺͓̱̗̩̟̬̹͖̝̞͈̣̖̙̻͖͉̦͍̩̱̜͙̥͙̩̩̞͐̀̈́́͂̎͋̀̎̾̄̿̍̈̾̾̾̏̆͆̑͒͂̎̃̽̐̃͛̂̓̋͐̀̉̓̒́̄͊̎͛͒͌͘͝͝͝͝p̵̨̛̘̹̖̩̞͙͛̈́͑̿̂̈̏̒̏̑̈̀̐̈́̽̂́͋͗́̓͐̒͆͋͐̋͑͋͌̃̃̿̒͆̾͂́͛̎́͛̉̄̎̉́͘ͅh̴̨̧̨̡̨̢̛̞̦̖̱̱͓͙̯̘͙̱͚̬̙̬̮̲͍̲͎͓̳̮̯̩̗̮̘̞̞͍̫̳̄̈́̀͜ͅͅĕ̸̢̧̧̧̧̜͍̩̞̜͇͈̳̖̻̼̯͇̗͉̞̩̱̭̟͖̼̗̣̥̝͓̘̣̣̬̘̺͉̗͖̹̗̦̹͔͔͇̃̅̍̾̒͗͘͘ͅͅů̶̡̡̝͚̫̱̳̻̜̳̙̔̔̇̒̽̎̾̓̂̄͝͠͠s̶̡̧̧̛̤͉̯͍̩̰̲̲̤͖̟̰̩͖̥͇̻̝̃̽̋̌͑̔̽̑͗͆̇͂͆̊̽͐̐͋͑̅̿̔͑͂͂̇̋̇̄̓̾̅̍̈́̏̂͊͛͘

ş̸͓̟̦̓͑͗̅͆͊ͅţ̶͕͇̻͗̔̂́̐͋͆̊̉̅͝o̷͉̫̣̬̖̥̖̘̼̟̩̳̩͂ͅp̶̹̝̞͎̥̮̩̜̜͈͓̲͚̘̠̿̅͛̌̉̾̄͆̅͝͝ ̶̢̧̖̜͍͍̯̻̰͙̻̙̲͇̩̭͈̜͗͗͗̊̅ḯ̸̡̧̧̨̫̣̬̫̲̦̻͚͔̼̬̯̪͍̝̘̤̥͙͔̈́̎͂͑̆͑͌͋̿͆̀͂̎͝͝͝t̸͓̥̲̳͙̭̲̙̪̥͕͉̪͎̍̎͆̑̿͊̓͂̉̅̊,̶͇̼̩̣̖̯̹̩̻̐̍̈́̑͑͑̏̈́̆͒ ̶̮̎̽̾̉t̵̢̗̟̩͚͓̖̱͉̯̃̿͛͒ͅh̶̨̧̧̛̩̯͙͉͈̹̭͚͖͎̺̥̯͔̮̹̩̞̾̿̏̏̐̇͐͂̿̏͒͌̏͋̽͜͜͠͝ͅị̵̛̰̩̮͔͈̲͓͕̹̜͕̰̈́̓̍͊̊̉̃̒̀̄̓̔̑̊̉͐̍̓͝͝ͅͅṡ̷̢̛̛̛̠̫͌͆̉̍͋̃̈̄̈́̚̕͝ ̸͔͕̘̰̗͇̮̗̲̳̽͗̔̊͝į̵͕̼͈͓͍̯͍̣̱̗̰̝͕̠͈͚̆̊̒̑͝s̷̢̡̛̛̛̪͔̠̼̭̜̪̳͍͙̥͉͓̖̬̤̈́̾̈́̓̇̒̈̿̑̅̌̀͑͗̅̚͘͜͝͝ ̴̗͍͈̖̲͎͎̦͎͈͓̖͔̯̮͈̫͙̠̻̹͑̓̑̈́̐̓̃̔͌͂̄̎ͅn̷̛̲̭̖̭̭̰͍͖̺͈͖̫̻̥̬͇͈̮̼̠͍̆̒͛̃͗̅̽̅͋̃̇́́́̚͜͠͠o̶̢̨̨͕̖̫̯̬̲̳͙͕̟̹̦̮͈̘̼̪̥͊̌͐̾̆̊̄̐̔̋̃̄̾̆̾̕͜͠t̷̛̼̤̏̋͊̏̈́͂͆́̇͛̓͊͐̊͆̿́̆̚͝ͅ ̵͖̲̩͖͐̂̿̈́̓͐̓̂̈́̓͂̀̓̈́̈́̆̌͠͝s̶̨͎̟̮̤͎̜̮̳̀̓́̓̈́̓̾̊̑͊̿͛̏͆̓̂̐̋͊̚͝ụ̶̧̺̲̼̻̫͍̒͒͒̈̋̒̊̑̍͋̒̎̐̀̍̌̄͜͝p̸̡̛̬̰͚̗̞̯̤͉̹̺̳̞͈̪͖͍̼͉͈̀̆̍ͅͅp̸̢̤̹̦̙̜̰͍͐̕ö̴̭́̐̃͗͒͗͛̍̒̍͘s̵̙͈̰͍̣͎̗̜͒̃͐̂͛͑̏̒̿͝ẻ̷̢̨̥̬̖̪̍̎̐͂̃̇͘͘ḑ̸̛̲̱̟͈̹̜͒̔̎̓̔̉̽̋̋̂̈̈́̌͌͗͐̑͊̚͘̕͘͝ ̸̨̥̺̹̫͗̏́̎̏͐͒̈̓̏͆̌͑̂̚͝t̵̝̰͚̞̋̒̉̎̋̀̈́̈̄́̈́͂̈́͒͗̿̑̚͜͝ȯ̵̱̮̉̑̍̒͆͛̌͌̾̌͆̈́̈̽̎͝ ̶͎̱̪̼͇̦̹̣̤̗̠̭̿̋͜ͅḩ̴̧̢̧̬̮̝͈̩̟͇̥͎͉̪̺͊͂̽͊̈́â̴̧̨͚̙͙̪̫̞̠͔̠̪̟̙̌̍̈̆̅̇̊̑̽̌̑͐̀͘p̷̢̫̤͇̟̼̖̪͙̗͍̠̖͉̞̆̄͗̔̈̂̍̈̈́̿̎̂͛̅̿̈́͗͋̚͘͜͠͠͝p̶̨̛̮͇͔͉̙̮͉̦̟͕͈̋̈́͛̅̐̆̉̈́͌̽̀̏͋͊͋͘ȩ̸̧̡̥̖͎̦̮̯̬͇͙͎͙̋͜ͅǹ̷͓͚͚̯͍͈̓̚

From: <kso…@aol.com>

Where do you report spam?

From: BBH <bbh@aol.com>

on Wed, 28 Feb 1996 <kso…@aol.com> wrote:

>Where do you report spam?

I have no idea, maybe we can talk somewhere else? This is getting hard to read (also creepy..) 

Baekhyun attempted to put his hair in a bun only for almost half of his hair to not cooperate, and took a sip of his tea; it was already late at night, but his sleep schedule was still messed up. He poked the lava lamp standing on his desk, the blue light making him feel like he was visiting an aquarium. The lava reminded him of jellyfish aimlessly floating up and down. Mongryong was laying on his bed in the corner, his head laying in on one of the pillows.

"I swear if you're also from a different—I don't know, reality?" The dog looked at him intently, making Baekhyun feel bad before even saying anything. "Actually, I don't know what I wanted to say, please, go back to sleep." He smiled and looked back at his computer, his IRC client open on the screen. 

**ksoo** : you may believe me or not but my grandma had lost a dog a few days before she died

 **BBH** : Oh, I'm sorry to hear that :(

 **ksoo** : no one could find him in the neighborhood for days and we eventually gave up

 **ksoo** : but she wasn't that sad about it

 **ksoo** : she knew he would end up in the shelter after she died and for some reason she insisted that someone must've taken care of him

 **ksoo** : someone who really needed him

 **BBH** : Again, sorry to hear that, but I don't know what your getting at >:(

 **ksoo** : *you're

 **ksoo** : the dog's name was mongryong he was a corgi

Baekhyun left the chat immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the usenet section was such a pain to format... fun fact, you can still access the forum in question! nowadays it's overrun with spam but the archive is accessible with a quick google search!


	6. Chapter 6

Baekhyun knocked on Jongdae's door, Mongryong tucked under his other arm and a bag with most of his belongings under his feet—the easel and a few canvases left behind in his car. He rested his forehead on the cold white wall.

"Fuck," he groaned, feeling the tears of frustration gather in his eyes. Mongryong wriggled and tried to lick his face. "Sorry, buddy. I promise I'll try not to curse around you," he chuckled but it rang empty.

Jongdae opened the door. "Baek? What happened?" 

Baekhyun looked up at him, somehow feeling even worse than before. "I got an eviction notice," he said. 

Jongdae gestured at him to get inside. "Why?" 

"This gentleman right here," Baekhyun said as he put Mongryong down. "Some neighbor must've snitched on me. No one's looking for him and I can't bring myself to drive him to the shelter, so eviction it is. And I really don’t want to be sued since according to the law I’m in the wrong for violating the lease." He felt defeated and utterly helpless. He didn’t do anything harmful and he still was being punished. "Sorry, I didn't know where else to go." 

"Baek—don’t worry,” Jongdae told him, his hand resting on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Please, stay here, I’ll make some tea.”

“I just—I feel so shitty for making myself a liability. Money’s not a problem, I can pay for the utilities, I just need a place to stay for a few—”

“Don’t worry,” Jongdae repeated firmly. “You’re not a burden. I understand why you might be worried that you're inconveniencing me, but you aren't. You really aren't, Baek."

“You were the first person I thought of ,” Baekhyun confessed. “This is the first place that popped into my head where I knew I wouldn’t be turned down.” He started playing with his hat he took off moments before, stretching the fabric in his hands.

“You don’t have anyone else here, right?” Jongdae asked.

“Not here, not anywhere else in a few thousand mile radius,” Baekhyun chuckled bitterly, realizing just how isolated he had become over the years. Why did he do that to himself? 

Jongdae smiled at him, the look on his face reassuring. Baekhyun felt like a small child that needed a bandaid and a hug to stop crying. “I’ll help you get the rest of your things.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

He glanced at the mural he helped Jongdae paint—the vast dark-blue sky, the yellow and orange skyline, as well as its reflection in the river below it. If you looked close enough, you could see the paint strokes, the uneven texture of the thick paint. Baekhyun remembered he had to climb the ladder just to finish off the moon visible at the top.

“You know how people go through a break-up and they get a haircut?” he asked as he petted sleeping Mongryong and watched Rugrats on Jongdae’s TV. Angelica was such a bitch. “I think I managed to do the opposite.” 

Jongdae looked up at him from his notebook. “You didn’t go through a break-up and decided to grow out your hair?”

“Exactly! I should cut it,” he said watching Jongdae’s eyes light up. “I’m not getting a mullet, don’t even think about it.”

“But you were hot!” Jongdae whined.

“But I need to get a job! I can’t get a haircut that indicates that I’m either very gay or I own several guns and enjoy taxidermy! Or both!"

Jongdae looked devastated. "Fine… But what about the hair color?"

"What about it, Mister Beige Walls and Dark Brown Hair? I don't think you're the one to talk," Baekhyun laughed. 

"Excuse me, I'm not boring, I'm imitating my world history professor from college? Educate yourself?" 

Baekhyun nodded in approval. "Ah, yes, a classic choice for a substitute parental figure. Was the English lit instructor taken?"

"She didn't wear snazzy button-ups, not really my style as you can see.” Jongdae pointed at his shirt with an embroidered collar. “Now, I just need to get into Civil War reenactments and I’m done with imitating my father figure of choice. Maybe Kibum would help me with the uniform? We definitely have some left…”

“I just realized I never asked you what you exactly do for a living, except theater in general,” Baekhyun said, feeling a bit guilty. “I don’t want to come off like I don’t care about you.”

“I mean, it never really came up, I guess that’s understandable.” Jongdae clicked his pen against his face. “I work as a stage manager for the local theatre, you know, on Southwest Broadway. I’m currently making a schedule for the costume fittings.”

That took Baekhyun aback. "That is not what I expected, to be completely honest with you." 

Jongdae laughed. "Why? Do I look like I followed my dad's footsteps?"

"God, no, that's not what I meant. I remembered you work in theatre." Baekhyun waved his hands. "Maybe—like a performer? I was dead sure you were an actor. Ever since I saw you sing with Chanyeol, I can’t shake off that feeling. I don’t know, I just imagine you standing on a big stage.”

Jongdae laughed again, this time louder. “I’ll stick to making schedules. Speaking of which, we're missing a prop maker."

"Oh, are you looking for someone?" Baekhyun asked as he got up from the couch to look at Jongdae's notebook, his noisiness getting the better of him. 

"A props assistant or someone willing to do an apprenticeship," Jongdae said looking at him. 

Baekhyun wanted to laugh, he knew what Jongdae was implying. He wasn't a fan. “If you want me to apply, the answer’s no. I’m not qualified.”

Jongdae took a deep breath, his arms resting on the table next to his notes. “Listen, I’m not demanding you know how to build a table from scratch because the play director needs it to be over 80 inches long,” he said, seemingly referencing a real event. “You told me you have experience painting furniture which means you probably can take a chair apart and put it back together, right?”

Baekhyun nodded, not sure where Jongdae was going with this.

“I saw in your old apartment that you’ve been experimenting with making models? I mean, I just want you to try this out. If you absolutely hate it, you’re free to go, but maybe we can find something you’ll enjoy doing? I’m sure Junmyeon would help you, tell you what to do, somehow guide you,” he said, clicking his pen rapidly, the sound annoying Baekhyun. 

He didn’t realize Jongdae and Junmyeon worked together, that would make sense as to why they were so tight-knit. Baekhyun felt a sharp tug of jealousy in his chest which in turn only made him mad at himself. He was being unreasonable.

“I just don’t want to take away this opportunity from someone else, I’ve been given a lot of things in life I don’t deserve,” Baekhyun concluded, his gaze shifting back to look at the TV.

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae said,touching his face, and urging Baekhyun to turn around his head and look him directly in the eyes. “We’ve been looking for someone for a few weeks now; there are no job applicants. I’m not pitying you or offering you a job only because we know each other. You’re not taking an opportunity from anybody. I’m simply asking for your help because you’re good at what you’re doing, okay?” 

It took a good moment for Baekhyun to finally nod his head in confirmation. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his eyes focused on the birds embroidered on Jongdae’s collar to distract himself. 

“For what?”

“You asked me for help and I made it about myself.”

“Baby.” Jongdae tucked Baekhyun’s hair behind his ear. “Your concern was valid, I’m glad we straightened it out before it escalated though, you weren’t being unreasonable,” he said, reassuring Baekhyun. “I didn’t express myself clearly. Also, and excuse me if I sound too much like Mr. Rogers here, but you’re not worthless, Baekhyun, just because you are you, you're capable of being loved. And you should take the chances you’re given. You can be so needlessly cruel to yourself sometimes.” He hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead like Baekhyun was actually a little kid, waiting for his favorite TV show to begin.

He felt so warm inside and he didn't want this feeling to end.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

It was that evening when they were already laying in bed, Jongdae with a book in hands and Baekhyun mindlessly scribbling in his sketchbook when it finally hit him.

"Do you think people can be haunted?" Baekhyun asked upon laying down his pencil.

Jongdae looked up from his book and sat up on the bed. 

"You aren't haunted, Baekhyun. It's just— it seems like no one has ever taught you how to deal with loss and so you never really did," Jongdae said looking up at the ceiling, his head resting on the wall behind him.

Baekhyun wasn't surprised that he had interpreted his question this way and not literally. "How's that any different?"

"You can still learn—that way you won't haunt other people." Jongdae rolled his eyes as he got up from his bed and threw something from the bookcase next to Baekhyun. It was a brand new, sealed UNO card game, Baekhyun looked at it intently.

" _Next time we can play UNO_ , right?” Jongdae said. "Do you maybe want me to distract you from the existential dread?" he deadpanned.

Baekhyun couldn't help but just burst into laughter. "Do we have to play UNO, though? Was rock, paper, scissors not enough for you?" 

"No," Jongdae said flatly. "I need something stronger," he said upon opening the box and dumping the introductions aside. 

"I know this probably is not what you aimed for, but do you wanna build a pillow fort?" Baekhyun asked, genuinely not feeling like he was in the right headspace for anything else.

Jongdae had already started fluffing up the pillows and gathering blankets. “Here or in the living room? Your blue lava lamp stays on either way.”

“I don’t really care, I just need a hug.” He felt Jongdae’s arms envelop around him.

🖼️🖼️🖼️

Baekhyun woke up with the feeling that something was utterly and fundamentally wrong. Jongdae wasn't with him.

Worse, he wasn't in Jongdae's apartment. He didn't know where he was. 

Baekhyun rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get his vision to adjust faster. When he finally looked around, it was clear that he was actually mistaken; it was Jongdae's apartment, but from about four months ago.

The walls were bare, there was no furniture, nothing, not even the ugly curtains with the flowery print, or Jongdae's beloved ficus tree. He looked around searching for Mongryong, but the dog also wasn't anywhere in sight. Baekhyun was starting to panic, his chest feeling unnaturally tight. He got up from the mattress laying on the floor and opened the door to the kitchen.

To his surprise, everything momentarily went back to normal as if someone pressed the reset button to make sure the reality readjusted itself. 

Baekhyun breathed in deeply at the sight of Jongdae standing by the kitchen counter. Everything was fine; he was fine. 

Jongdae beamed at him. 

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Baekhyun noticed, trying to shake himself off from the shock. 

“You’d be correct.” Jongdae’s smile was brighter than the sun, he was such a little shit. 

“I own like ten shirts! Maybe less, did you really have to?” he asked as he tried to brush his hair out of his face. Baekhyun wasn't successful. 

“But it smells like you.” Jongdae pouted and burrowed his head in the shirt trying to be cute, Baekhyun had to agree that it worked.

“Yeah, because I have good taste in cologne, as opposed to you.”

Jongdae scoffed. “You see, that’s the difference between us, I try to be cute and you’re just insulting me, I’m keeping the shirt, fuck you,” he laughed.

When Baekhyun found himself dumbly smiling at Jongdae by the kitchen table, he knew just how utterly fucked he was.

"Speaking of which, I'm taking you shopping this week," Jongdae said before biting into his toast.

"Why?"

"Because like you said, you have like ten shirts, maybe a few sweaters. I mean—I have nothing against minimalism, but you need some other clothes if you're going to work with props. Otherwise, you're going to quickly run out of t-shirts without random splashes of paint or resin on them."

"I can't really argue with you," Baekhyun realized. "You got me. But I'm paying for it myself," he insisted.

"Baekhyun, you just got evicted." 

"My financial situation isn't as dire as it may seem, I had been saving money for some time before moving here. It's definitely worse than what I'm used to, that's for sure." Baekhyun took a sip of his coffee. "You know that financial advice that everybody knows, but most can't follow? The one that says you should have about half a year worth of expenses saved up just in case? Let's just say that I could comfortably do literally nothing for… five months."

"Rich people fucking scare me," Jongdae said with an amused look in his eyes.

"Hey, me too! I grew up around people you could easily call _old money_ and let me tell you, it's kinda shit. Of course, I'm not talking about financial stability, that's the one thing I never had to worry about, can't say it about the rest." Baekhyun shrugged. "You look really cute in my shirt." He looked at Jongdae.

"Baekhyun, you don't have to justify your decisions in front of me all the time, I'm not going to scold you or demand an explanation," Jongdae said, not acknowledging the compliment. "You did what you thought was the best for you, that's all I care about." He squeezed Baekhyun's hand.

Baekhyun couldn't help but lean across the table and kiss him.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"You people don't know what you want! It's the third time I'm redoing this suitcase and every time the only feedback I get is that it doesn't look right!" Baekhyun heard Junmyeon's voice from the staff room as he stood in the theatre hallway.

“Give me feedback! The design you gave me doesn’t tell me anything apparently, because you keep demanding I correct it! I don’t know how and I'm running out of time” he shouted with audible desperation. 

Baekhyun refrained himself from going inside. Jongdae nodded at him to go in and gestured at the door. He shook his head.

"Why?" 

“He sounds angry!”

“Junmyeon always sounds angry!” Jongdae said with amusement audible in his voice. “You’re gonna be fine!” He opened the door and pushed Baekhyun into the room, his portfolio grasped firmly in his hands.

Just glancing at the props manager made him want to run away. “Hello,” he said meekly.

The rest of the staff looked at him, measuring him up from head to toe. Baekhyun felt immensely uncomfortable. 

“Hello, Baekhyun.” Junmyeon smiled and shooed his two coworkers. “I’ll talk with you later, okay? This is a… job interview?”

“Is it?”

He shrugged. “I mean, we need someone ASAP, so I guess you’re hired. I’ll show you around.”

“That’s it? Do you want to maybe see my portfolio?”

Junmyeon nodded. “You can leave it on my desk, I’ll check it later and match the things you’ll work on based on your skill level. But we’re really desperate for any kind of help, so it’s not that important right now.”

“I haven’t worked in a creative field before, are you sure you want my help?”

“I’ll be blunt, Baekhyun, I’d appreciate it if you put your insecurities aside for a few weeks as we work on this project. If Jongdae recommended you then it means I can trust you, despite your private relationship. I don’t care about that,” he said flatly as he reached for the prop that got rejected earlier. It was a heavy, leather suitcase. “Can you grab the other one? They’ll need to be reworked, _again_ ,” he sounded defeated. 

“Why do you need to rework them?” Baekhyun asked, lifting the empty suitcase.

“Because that’s not what they asked for,” Junmyeon hummed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. It happens more often than I’d like it to.”

The workshop reminded Baekhyun of a basement, or a huge storage facility. The inside was filled with racks, random boxes and lonely furniture pieces standing in the middle of 

“Oh, fresh meat,” one of the artists remarked upon seeing Baekhyun in the workshop. “Do you always use newbies for manual labor, Jun?”

"I swear, one day I'm gonna punch someone with the dye pot," Junmyeon sighed when they reached the small kitchen area.

" _The die pot_?" Baekhyun was immensely confused. 

"D-Y-E pot, you know, for fabric dyes, they're toxic. I'm not planning on killing someone with a pot. As of yet, if this continues my opinion might change.”

In Baekhyun’s humble opinion, this place seemed great.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"Do you think soulmates exist?" Baekhyun asked Junmyeon out of the blue. 

"Like for real or in a metaphorical sense?" Junmyeon tilted his head and put all of the supplies on the table in front of Baekhyun.

"I don't know, whatever you're more comfortable with, I guess?" 

Junmyeon tapped his fingers on the table. "I think—If you believe in them, then they do, but it's not ultimate. No relationship is, in my opinion. Everything has an end, even if they're your soulmate," he said smiling at Baekhyun.

"I expected something more romantic from you," Baekhyun laughed. "With the whole wedding thing and ‘ _til death do us part_.’" 

"Oh, but I think it's pretty romantic? It's up to you to define what you believe in about yourself or about your relationship, it doesn't matter. If you don't believe that everything is predestined then it means _you_ are responsible for your happiness," Junmyeon said. "You're having a bit too much fun plucking these holes." He pointed at Baekhyun furiously trying to sculpt the foam to look like a piece of cheese.

Baekhyun shrugged. "What about you and Min?”

“My relationship with Minseok proves that annoyance at first sight exists, not sure about love.” He clicked his tongue.

“I guess Jongdae must’ve romanticized some things a bit,” Baekhyun said, making Junmyeon tilt his head with wonder. "No, it's just—Dae presented your story as his big matchmaking achievement." 

Junmyeon almost splashed the fabric dye onto the wall in front of him. "I love how he always forgets to mention that I and Min definitely didn't like each other at first—I don't know why, but I was this close to punching him in the face a few times," he laughed.

"May I ask why?"

"He can look intimidating at first and my automatic response to being threatened—or assuming that I might be threatened—is getting defensive. You know, better safe than sorry." He shrugged. "As much as Dae is a good storyteller, he's definitely an unreliable narrator." 

"Aren't we all though?" Baekhyun made another hole in the pink foam.

"I guess? I don't mean it in a negative way, it's just a fact. Our life experience is pretty different from most, Baekhyun." 

Baekhyun felt a jolt go through his entire body, his heart starting to race. "What do you mean?" Junmyeon was intimidating in the softest way possible, as if one sharp look from him could kill you.

"I have a vague feeling that our fathers did business at some point, I don't remember you—I don't think we’d met before. But I remember talking with a big shot lawyer from California at one of my dad's weird, fancy parties, who was bitching about his son, who also wanted to go to art school like me."

"That sounds exactly like him. Especially the 'bitching about his kids at any opportunity he has’ part." Baekhyun didn't know whether the sound he made was a chuckle or a groan.

"Maybe I'm projecting and that wasn't actually your dad, but that means there's another kid out there whose dreams had been crushed by their parents' expectations. I'd rather not think about that," Junmyeon said somberly as he stirred the fabric in the pot.

He kept on plucking the holes in the foam until he was satisfied with the result.

"So, uhm, which of the following careers were you supposed to choose to finally be valued by your family? A—a medical professional of some kind? B—an engineer? C—a lawyer?" Baekhyun asked, he was genuinely curious.

Junmyeon snorted. "Sorry to disappoint, but none of them. I was too stubborn so they let me do my own thing. But don’t let that make you feel bad about yourself—you had your reasons, Baekhyun. We all do.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

After about a week of working for the theatre, Baekhyun reached the conclusion that a props assistant was one of the more pleasant jobs he had had in his life. Although, nothing could beat dog-sitting for his rich neighbor. 

A distant ring made him lose the train of thought. 

“Could you go check the fax?” Junmyeon said as he jumped on one of the chairs, testing its durability. Apparently it was called actor proofing. 

Baekhyun got up from the floor, his knees aching and his hands stained with drying paint. He ran to the ringing phone. As he waited for the _handshake_ tone, Baekhyun looked around the workshop, admiring the artistic mess—tens of tables and chairs, piles of papers laying on the counters, stained, concrete floor, neatly stacked and labeled boxes filling the racks. He always imagined his future looking like this.

He heard the tone. 

The first thing he’d noticed was the neat handwriting.

 _I don’t know if this fax will reach you, Baekhyun, but I hope you’re having a good day at work. And that no one has thrown a piece of furniture in your direction (yes, it happens, no, don’t question it). I know it sounds generic_ , _impersonal even, but I’m proud of you for taking this opportunity. It must’ve taken a lot of courage to let someone help you since you seem to deal with everything alone. I hope that someday your ‘alone’ includes me in it._

_Take your protein pills,_

_Jongdae_

His fingers automatically dialed Jongdae’s number. “How did you know I would receive the fax and not someone else? Wouldn’t you be embarrassed?” Baekhyun laughed nervously, his cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so much.

“Not if it made you smile,” Jongdae said on the other end. “I don’t think it’s physically impossible to embarrass me after all the improv classes I’ve taken over the years.” 

“How’s your day off?”

“Mongryong’s sad—he’s sleeping on your side of the bed,” Jongdae avoided actually answering the question. “I wish I could tell him that you’ll come back.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Baekhyun assured. “Do you want to cook together when I get back from work?”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun passed by fake, plastic palm trees, his stomach churning with anxiety.

“Malls make me sad,” Baekhyun remarked as they exited JCPenney, a bag filled with kitschy t-shirts in one hand. He could hear _Macarena_ playing in the background, he just knew that it was going to be stuck in his head for the next few days.

“It says a lot about you as a person that I very quickly got used to these kinds of comments after living with you for… a week,” it would’ve almost sounded like Jongdae was mocking him if not for the way he looked at Baekhyun with affection. “Tell me why,” he said, like a therapist.

“I don’t like crowds.”

“Yeah, I noticed, that’s why we drove to the Lloyd Center on a Wednesday. Do you have any other reasons?” Jongdae looked at him with worry.

“Nothing in particular, I think? Maybe it’s the interior, the checkered tiles, and plastic plants everywhere? It makes me— what’s the opposite of claustrophobia?”

“Agoraphobia?” Jongdae proposed. 

“Thank you for being my personal dictionary of weird, Greek words that describe my deepest fears.”

“No problem, baby.”

Baekhyun's brain rapidly ceased to work. “Well, now I’m embarrassed because you took me by surprise with the nickname.”

Jongdae snorted. “Should I call you honey instead? Or maybe sugar?” 

“Eggs and flour?” Baekhyun didn’t miss a beat.

“Add a pinch of salt, some baking soda, and stir thoroughly,” Jongdae laughed as he stepped onto the escalator. “I mean, if you’re uncomfortable… I can always stop? It wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Nah, it’s just—I’m not used to people very clearly flirting with me, I’m usually the one to make the first move.”

To say that Jongdae looked bewildered would’ve been an understatement of the century. He whistled in amusement. “That's not something I've considered and now you’re giving me too many ideas, holy shit."

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"I've just realized I'm not sure whether I'd returned the movies to my local Blockbuster in Sacramento," Baekhyun said as he eyed the first Terminator movie. He was sure he had the VHS somewhere. "Can I get a warrant for that? Maybe I should just avoid them until they go out of business?" 

"That's probably gonna take a couple of years—decades maybe."

"I'm very good at avoiding responsibilities if you haven't noticed." Baekhyun looked around the store trying to find the video game section. "You have a Super Nintendo, right?" he turned to Jongdae who tried to choose between two different VHS tapes. He nodded in response. "Gotcha, I'll try to find either something extremely hard or bad _and_ based on a movie franchise."

Baekhyun waited through the maze of shelves almost hoping the older version of Jongdae would show up before him. An almost empty video rental seemed like the ideal place to haunt Baekhyun. 

The man wasn't anywhere in sight, which was unnerving. Baekhyun had grown used to meeting him in unexpected places—be it his apartment, grocery store, park or random alleyway. He seemed to both transcend time and space. 

Baekhyun ended up picking up a copy of SNES The Lion King port, and making out with _his_ Jongdae somewhere next to the arcade machines. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"I wonder," Jongdae began when they were already in the car, his eyes focused on the road, "why did you choose me?" 

Baekhyun didn't know what to say. "I told you, you were the first person I thought of when I got the notice—"

"No, I mean, in general? Excuse my self-deprecating tendencies, inferiority complex if you might, but I'm not anyone special... I can't imagine being anyone's first choice," he confessed. “It sounds so foreign to me when you say it.” 

Baekhyun’s heart broke a little. "I'm sorry that someone made you think this way about yourself," he repeated the same thing Jongdae had told him months ago. He never forgot that conversation, some days it constantly replayed in his head like a movie he’d seen too many times. 

"Why do we keep saying the same things to each other," Jongdae laughed but there was a note of bitterness to it. “They clearly don’t work.”

"I think—we do it because we don't want anybody else to feel the same way we do sometimes," Baekhyun proposed. "There are times when I think I was granted the ability to be compassionate to everyone but myself..."

"I don't," Jongdae said firmly after a minute or so of silence. "There are people in this world I don't have an ounce of compassion for, there aren’t many of them though.”

“Is your dad one of them?” Baekhyun asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. 

“No…” Jongdae hesitated. “No, because in the same way parents see themselves in their children—I see myself in my family. I have compassion for my dad, I can understand where his beliefs come from, but it doesn’t mean I want to forgive him—these are two very different things to me. Again, I just wish he wasn’t such a dick, that’s all I ask for,” he laughed.

"As much as my family was strict and fucked me up in different ways, I've never had to worry about them not accepting me. It didn't matter who I was, it mattered whether I was successful. I wish you could've had that," Baekhyun said, putting his hand on Jongdae's thigh.

"It's fucking annoying—denying reality for his sake. Minseok doesn't live with his _friend_ , all my friends had more _roommates_ than I can keep up with! I can’t even remember all their names."

"Am I your _roommate_ too?"

"Yeah, we sleep in one bed, have a dog together kinda, cook for each other—"

"I can paint you naked if that would strengthen our _purely platonic_ bond," Baekhyun proposed, he wasn't able to withhold a smile.

Jongdae looked like he was having another existential crisis.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“This game was designed by the fucking Satan,” Baekhyun screamed when he couldn’t get through the Elephant Graveyard level for the tenth time in a row.

“What do you want me to say,” Jongdae said as he munched on his cereal straight from the bag, “I gave up after the second level.”

“That’s because you’re a coward who only plays Mario Kart. Don’t give Mongryong sugar, it’s bad for him”

“Because I’m good at it! I like winning! You care about your dog more than me…” He threw Mongryong a handful of treats.

Baekhyun could see that he was pouting even with his eyes focused on the dark pixel art displayed on the TV screen. “What do you want me to do? Take the cereal bag out of your hand?” He threw the controller on the soft carpet next to him.

“Keep my mouth occupied in a different way.”

Baekhyun’s stomach flipped. “Maybe you should show off your skills first—I’ll know what to expect the next time,” he barely had the time to finish the sentence before Jongdae pinned him down, his head landing on one of the pillows they laid on the floor earlier. 

He immediately wrapped his legs around Jongdae, securing his position. “We are not playing _rock, paper, scissors_ today—I’m staying here.”

“On the floor?”

“If you dare.”

Jongdae laughed, his eyes closed in mirth. “I’d urge you to consider my bed, unless you like having an audience.” He pointed at Mongryong. 

Baekhyun let go of his waist. “Fine,” he groaned, throwing his head back, thus baiting Jongdae. Baekhyun could feel him smile as he peppered kisses under his jaw.

“Come on.” Jongdae took his hand, intertwining their fingers as if he were tying a knot.

It was hard for Baekhyun to pinpoint the exact moment he ended up on the bed, his back arched and Jongdae’s hands tempering with his zipper, playing with it like he was picking a lock. And as soon as he was done he fulfilled his promise by putting his mouth to good use, marking the delicate skin by the band of Baekhyun’s boxers.

He gripped Baekhyun by his hips, keeping him in place as he slid down his underwear. “Don’t move,” he told him, his breath tickling Baekhyun.

“What if I do?”

“You won’t get what you want,” his voice was low, almost commanding—Baekhyun loved it. 

Jongdae wasn’t shy, he immediately started eagerly sucking and licking the head of Baekhyun’s cock, the inside of his mouth feeling hot, almost burning at first. Baekhyun couldn’t look away, his eyes drilling into him. 

Despite his strong grip, Baekhyun bucked his hips, fucking into Jongdae’s mouth and making him gag. Jongdae smirked, his lips covered in spit.

“Hands and knees,” he said.

“But—”

“You heard me.”

Baekhyun whined and obeyed his command, the duvet feeling soft under his hands. He heard Jongdae open a drawer in the bedside table. “What are your plans?”

“Squeeze your thighs together,” he said before reaching between Baekhyun’s legs and coating the delicate skin with a layer of cold lube.

He started moving, slow at first, trying to ease himself into it.

It was the sweetest form of torture, feeling Jongdae move, hear him gasp and moan but not being able to do anything except allowing him to use his body as he pleased. Baekhyun felt so used in the best way possible. He tried to press his legs tighter, providing Jongdae with more friction.

Jongdae hitched his breath when he came, his release spilling onto the inside of Baekhyun’s thighs.

“Dae,” he whined. “Dae, please…”

Jongdae took a few deep breaths, his body relaxing in the afterglow, and flipped Baekhyun over, letting him rest on his back. He reached for the packet of lube and tried to squeeze out the rest of the cold liquid. Baekhyun started jerking himself off, letting Jongdae watch him.

“Touch me, please,” Baekhyun said, a smile plastered onto his face—he knew Jongdae wouldn’t decline him. 

“I think your prayer medal broke,” Jongdae said, throwing Baekhyun off. He’d forgotten he was even wearing it all this time.

“Just leave it on the nightstand, I’ll repair it later.”

Baekhyun wasn’t sure he was ever going to wear it again. It reminded him that he was a fraud.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“You’ve tamed me,” Jongdae laughed when Baekhyun touched his tattoo as they lay in bed.

“Huh?” Apparently speaking in riddles was a shared trait between the two of them. 

“You know, _The Little Prince_? I have a fox tattoo and that’s probably one of the most recognizable quotes from that book. You haven’t read it?”

“Not really,” Baekhyun said as he hugged Jongdae tighter. He wasn’t much of a reader compared to Jongdae, who hoarded books like he wanted to create a public library in their apartment.

Jongdae got up from the bed, put on his sweatpants and started to look for something on one of the bookshelves. Baekhyun admired the way his muscles moved when he reached for a book, the little moles that covered his skin, his small waist, the dimples on his back… Jongdae wasn’t perfect, no one objectively was because true perfection was unobtainable, but to Baekhyun Jongdae came close, closer than anyone before in his life. Jongdae was just himself and that was enough for him.

The Little Prince was a short book with a shiny cover that had yellowed over time. Jongdae opened it somewhere in the middle. “ _To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other_ . _To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…_ ” he read without a single stutter. "I think you'd enjoy this story." He laid it down on the nightstand next to Baekhyun.

Jongdae looked so sincere standing beside his bed and staring at Baekhyun’s naked chest.

He reached for the book, his fingers brushing over the faded price tag on the back. “I’ll read it if you let me paint you.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"Can you stop moving so much?!" Baekhyun laughed but he was starting to get frustrated with Jongdae. He barely finished the basic sketch, but Jongdae was already getting jittery, nervously tapping his feet or glancing over at him.

"I'm not moving! I'm sitting still!"

"You're talking, and blinking, and breathing too! Not to say changing position every few seconds." He sighed. Jongdae was a beautiful model, don't get him wrong, but Baekhyun didn't have much experience with painting from real-life models since—well, art school. And it’d been some time since then—way too long.

"I thought this was gonna be romantic," Jongdae burst into laughter. “I was supposed to be your muse or something.”

"Art is pain, it's not entertaining or romantic," Baekhyun said as he tried to mix the right skin-shade—it kept coming out too dark. He almost managed to put his paintbrush in the Red Bull can. "Why are you so pale? I can't get the right undertone."

"It's almost April? ‘ _Toto, I have a feeling we're not in California anymore.’_ Like, it's still chilly in Portland, I can’t exactly sunbathe on my balcony."

Was quoting _The Wizard of Oz_ really necessary?

"I know, but you're still kinda pale." Baekhyun reached into his pocket to light up a cigarette as he went to open the window. He told himself he’d quit for good.

"Are you always this frustrated when you paint?" Jongdae asked, looking at him with disapproval in his eyes. “Why don’t we take a break… sure.”

 _Fuck_.

Baekhyun exhaled the grey smoke outside and watched as it curled in the air. "Only when I'm painting someone dear to me," he said quietly, the traffic almost drowning him out. "I want to remember this moment forever, I want to remember you as you are right now... And I keep getting frustrated because my hands can't transfer the image I have in my head onto the canvas."

"We can try tomorrow, I'm not going anywhere, Baek."

"But I'm scared I won't be brave enough to ask you again," he confessed, his cheeks burning with shame. He was a coward.

"Then _I_ will ask you to paint me. And I'll do it every day until you're satisfied with your work, alright? You deserve to be happy with the art you create and if I can help you... I'm glad to do it," Jongdae declared as he stood next to Baekhyun by the open window, the cold weather apparently not bothering him anymore.

"Making me happy is not your responsibility."

"You're right," Jongdae said, his voice almost as quiet as Baekhyun's. "The same applies to you. You’re responsible for your own happiness, but surrounding yourself with people who only want the best for you is also important.”

Baekhyun passed Jongdae the cigarette. He took it with some hesitation, his hands shaking.

“I hate the smell,” he told Baekhyun, exhaling and coughing a little.

“Why?” Baekhyun asked, feeling there was a deeper reason.

“My dad’s a heavy smoker.” Jongdae smiled, the shallow wrinkles around his eyes making him look older than he was in reality.

Baekhyun stubbed his cigarette on the windowsill, knowing damn well that he was smoking the last pack in life.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Posted by BBH bbh@aol.com on Friday 29.03.1996 in alt.sci.time-travel

**I think I made everything worse**

A few weeks ago I made a post about a man, who looks like my friend, following me around. Well, everything is worse now! Yay! 

If he's displaced in space and time, then so am I because sh*t’s getting ridiculous. Everyday I keep waking up in an empty apartment I don’t recognize, but after a few seconds it goes back to normal.

From: orpheus

This sounds like mental health problems, dude. Get a psychiatrist, maybe they’ll be able to help you.

From: <zyx…@servtech.com>

on Fri, 29 Mar 1996 <bbh@aol.com> wrote:

> Everyday I keep waking up in an empty apartment I don’t recognize

What do you mean by this? Maybe your vision is extremely blurred and you just don’t recognize your own apartment? Or you’re experiencing dimensional shift possibly, but it’s hard to tell.

\------------------------------------------------------

The comments and opinions stated herein are mine alone,

and do not reflect those of my employer.

  
  


From: <bbh@aol.com>

on Fri, 29 Mar 1996 <zyx…@servtech.com> wrote:

>What do you mean by this?

The apartment looks like my friend’s before he finished moving in, bare walls and everything. My vision is good, it’s not 20/20, but definitely not bad enough for me not to recognize my living space.

> dimensional shift

What is it? I’ve never heard about it.

From: <zyx…@servtech.com>

on Sat, 30 Mar 1996 < _bbh@aol.com_ > wrote:

>What is it? I’ve never heard about it.

It’s like you’re displaced in space and time and travelling to an alternate dimension where your friend’s apartment is still empty at this point of time. Or maybe you’re only travelling in time, that would make sense too.

\------------------------------------------------------

The comments and opinions stated herein are mine alone,

and do not reflect those of my employer.

From: orpheus

To me this still sounds like you need to see a shrink, time travel or not… Maybe you should stop hanging out on this board so much, it may be affecting the way you see reality.

From: <bbh@aol.com>

on Sat, 30 Mar 1996 <orpheus> wrote:

>it may be affecting the way you see reality.

But I’m sure everything I experience is real. I met an actual time-traveler, he predicted my future to a T. Believe me, I was sceptical it first too, hell, I still am! But I know what is happening to me is for sure real… I just don’t know what’s the reason.

Also, I have a therapist already, f*ck you.


	7. Chapter 7

_ WANTED: Somebody to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. Safety not guaranteed. I have only done this once before. _

Below was attached a phone number. Baekhyun almost crumpled the newspaper out of shock. He had stopped by the newsstand on his way from work, not expecting to finally find the personal ad from the tip in the Usenet forum.

He wrote the number on his palm and ran to the phone booth across the street, the change chiming in his wallet with every move. 

"Please, pick up, please," he chanted into the phone like a good luck spell. He certainly needed some of that. 

Sure, the ad was probably written by some weirdo looking for attention, but you could also describe Baekhyun as such, and at this point he was willing to try anything. 

"Hello?" the man on the other side sounded tired. 

"I'm calling to ask about the ad?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I've already got a boyfriend." He clicked his tongue. 

Baekhyun leaned over the payphone exhaustedly. The black plastic case around it was hot but he didn't even flinch. "The other one, ‘ _ safety not guaranteed’ _ ?" he quoted the phrase from the ad. 

The man gasped. "What do you know about time travel?" 

“Not much? I mean, there’s this man, he looks like an older version of my… friend.” What was he even supposed to call Jongdae? “He keeps appearing sporadically, tells me that he misses me and—god, I’m sorry, this was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time,” he said as he started to put down the phone.

"Wait!" he heard the man shout. "Where are you? Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be there!”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Somehow, Baekhyun knew that the tall man with bleach blonde hair who walked through the door was here to see him.

“Time travel dude?” he asked after approaching Baekhyun.

“Do you see anyone else here, excluding the employees, that looks like they are in mental distress?” he grumbled, letting his exhaustion come to surface.

The man smiled awkwardly. “My name’s Tao.”

“Baekhyun.”

Tao sat on the chair before him, his legs crossed. “So, are you sure the man that keeps—stalking you? I mean, from your description it sounded like a weird form of harassment. Are you sure he’s real?” he finally got to the point. Seeing Baekhyun deflate, he quickly added, “I believe you! Don’t worry, it’s just that I had a very similar experience. That’s why I wrote in the ad that I’ve done this once before. Except I was the one haunting someone.”

That piqued Baekhyun’s interest. 

Baekhyun had never thought Jongdae was haunting him, but really, was there a difference? Was a ghost, a tortured soul, someone who couldn’t experience eternal peace, any different than that, seemingly, tormented man? He was trapped in his past, unable to let it go, desperately clinging to it with every ounce of strength. Baekhyun felt sorry for him. 

And yet, from what he’d said there was no way for Baekhyun to interfere.

“Right, if we assume this isn’t some mass hysteria or group hallucination—”

“ Folie à deux?” Tao said with a perfect accent.

“I guess?” Baekhyun didn’t even attempt to repeat the phrase. “If we assume it isn’t  _ that _ and you and Jongdae really did go back in time —why?" 

“Maybe the universe sometimes just caves in, you know? Allows you to do something you always wanted but never could, or maybe because some things just  _ need _ to happen. I don’t know how it works, Baekhyun, but I know what I experienced,” Tao said, his voice low.

"This sounds like you're trying to excuse everything that happened to you with  _ magic. _ " Baekhyun gestured vaguely with his hands. “Like, isn't magic just a promise from the universe that you'll get something for nothing? For a good intention, a strong desire to simply fuck someone up, or even just a wish?” he asked.

“Honestly, yeah, you just explained it perfectly.”

“So this is happening because I wished—or Jongdae at some point in his life wished—to fix something in the past? And the reality accomodated…” Baekhyun kept staring at Tao, trying to understand what he was implying. “Can two people be so defeated that the world fractures around them?”

Tao laughed. “Now you’re the one who’s trying to excuse everything with  _ magic _ .”

“No, I just sound like I’m writing a shitty poem. The only thing I’m missing is a cheesy simile about supernovas or black holes,” Baekhyun said with a smile. "Who did you haunt?" 

There was a brief moment of silence on Tao's part as he pressed his lips into a thin line. "My grandfather—such an annoying, old geezer," he laughed. "But I miss him to this day. I don't think it was because of me that I was able to see him for the last time though. It might've been his wish."

"Did he throw a nickel into a fountain or something?" Baekhyun snickered.

Wishes rarely came true, and if they did, the outcomes had a tendency to disappoint.

The man's expression twisted in disbelief. "I really want to insult your intelligence but you're a pretty nice guy, Baekhyun. What do people wish upon?" Tao drummed his fingers on the table.

“Shooting stars… Oh, fuck—”

They promised to watch the meteor shower together next year. What if they kept doing it over, and over, and over—until one of them didn’t come. Until the only way to keep the tradition alive was to live in the past. 

“I’m guessing you remembered something else besides that song from  _ Pinocchio, _ ” Tao remarked flatly. 

“Yeah? Obviously?” Baekhyun’s mouth gaped in disbelief. “I’m more shaken by the implications of what you’ve said—that if we want something badly enough it will come true.”

“In my opinion, I think some things  _ need _ to happen, again and again, and if they don’t, the reality has to revise itself at some point. And our biggest dreams and regrets may reflect some of those constants. My grandfather  _ had to  _ say goodbye to me, without it I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I wouldn’t be ranting to you about my theory on... eternal recurrence, I guess,” Tao said, sounding like he didn't really know what he was talking about.

Baekhyun wondered how he always came in contact with unrealized, slightly pretentious philosophy majors. “But why am I involved? Why is  _ my  _ reality breaking? Do you think he’s just overstaying his welcome?”

“I don’t know.”

His chest was starting to feel heavy. Baekhyun left the cafe with a growing headache and a sense of helplessness following him everywhere.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

The next week Baekhyun shoved Jongdae’s ghost into the costume storage, the door creaking behind them.

“What are you doing here?  _ You’re _ at work!”

“I don’t have much control over this!” the older man refuted. “I can’t choose the exact date. If I’ve appeared before you exactly when you wanted me to—that was a coincidence.” He turned around and grabbed a carnival mask laying on one of the shelves. “Problem solved.”

“What about your voice?”

Baekhyun looked around the racks, hoping he could find a better disguise.

“The way you hear your voice is distorted anyway, most people don’t know what their voice sounds like most of the time.”

Apparently, being a know-it-all transcended time and space for Jongdae. “Yeah, but other people know what you actually sound like—that’s what I’m worried about.”

“We can always just stay here, it’s not like you’re busy.”

“I’m at work! I have a job to do!”

Not-Jongdae ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth hanging open. “We work together?”

“I mean, I help out in the props department.  _ You _ are busy with… well, today you were stressing out about scheduling the costume fittings.” Baekhyun shrugged. “Wait, do we not work together in, I guess,  _ your  _ timeline?”

The man shook his head, the mask making it impossible to decipher the look on his face. “No, Baekhyun, we never had worked together. I must’ve changed something fundamental—”

“Butterfly effect, right?” Baekhyun sighed. “I think you broke something, Jongdae, you’re overstaying your welcome. You weren’t meant to stay here for so long and I’m suffering because of you. I keep waking up in a reality that looks like last November, like the time is trying to reset itself.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You made a mistake—not letting me go was a mistake,” Baekhyun said as he walked out of the storage, no longer caring what was going to happen to the other man. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“Did something happen?” Jongdae asked, sitting by the kitchen table and writing in his notebook, probably still trying to figure out the costume fittings. Or maybe he was writing, Jongdae wrote a lot in his notebooks.

Baekhyun didn't know why, but this question sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "Not really." He ground his teeth, his jaw tensing. A lot of things had happened in the last couple of months.

"How's work then?" 

_ Fuck. _

"Junmyeon's great, the staff is great—I’m just tired, really tired of everything. Let me sulk for a minute, okay?” he sighed. Even the way Jongdae clicked his pen was annoying him now. Everything seemed too loud, too bright, too intense. His tea was too sweet, leaving an unpleasant sour taste in his mouth after a while.

“You’ve been sulking a lot lately. I’m worried, that’s all,” he said quietly. “You can always vent. I’ll listen to you, Baek, so tell me, what’s wrong?”

"I don't know, Dae, I really don't fucking know. It is getting better—I'm getting better. I even got myself a therapist a few days ago, I told myself I would when I finally got a stable job... I'm sorry I didn't tell you... It's just—some days it hurts more than others," he spat out, not really knowing what he meant by that. It felt horrible to use Jongdae as an emotional punching bag, Baekhyun wished he’d never opened his mouth.

"But what, Baekhyun?"

_ The lies I had told you when we first met.  _

He was taken aback by the calm in Jongdae's voice. "Fucking life—the way I perceive myself and others, everything. Sometimes everything is just so shitty... and I don't know what to do.”

"Don't you think that it might, partially, just be burnout?"

"From fucking what? From sitting around for the past few months?"

Jongdae laughed bitterly. "You didn't sit around, Baek. When was the last time you just took the time to... be yourself? Without the constant burden of having to do something because you feel bad about yourself?" He crossed his arms, wrinkling the shirt he was wearing. "Because I think that it was during those two days we spent together in November." 

Baekhyun felt like Jongdae just smashed his heart on the floor. "I—maybe... It's all complicated—"

"What is? Baek, please, explain." 

He wanted to scream. "Have you ever broken a plate?” Baekhyun began, he’d been thinking how to explain his feelings to Jongdae for some time. “Watched it fall to the floor and shatter into pieces? I'm sure you did your best to clean it up, picked up the bigger parts, swept the floor carefully and vacuumed it later... But sometimes, days or even weeks later, you find a piece in the corner of your kitchen. You're sure it's impossible you’d missed it, but it's there, lurking in the crook of your wall. And now you know that if you aren't careful enough, you can get a shard of glass stuck in your foot," Baekhyun said. "That's how I feel about a lot of things that I have done in my life. I did my best to patch myself, and others, up but it wasn't enough..."

Jongdae started nervously playing with a button on his sleeve. "Do you know why I was in Fairview in November?" he asked.

Baekhyun shook his head, he never wondered about it.

"It was burnout, baby," he laughed bitterly. "I was offered a job in the theatre I currently work at—but at first I declined."

"But why?"

"I don't know." Jongdae smiled. “I really don’t know. I stayed in the suburbs for a while, I worked in the motel bar we first met. I didn’t know what to do with myself, I got what I wanted after years of hard work and I hardly felt motivated to do anything—I felt like such an ungrateful brat. I picked up the pieces—accepted the job, found myself an apartment in the city, put the two weeks’ notice on the motel management desk, joined a support group…  _ Put myself out there _ to quote Minseok. And then I met you and everything changed,” he said. “No one fixed me, I just decided to grind my teeth and carry on.”

Realizing that Jongdae wasn’t so different from him after all, made Baekhyun feel like he was suffocating—the air wasn’t enough for him. What did Jongdae even mean by this? He couldn’t imagine anyone thinking so highly of him, it was impossible, Jongdae probably meant it in a negative way. Baekhyun must’ve been a problem for him, a weight next to his feet, making it impossible to make any progress. He was a mistake, that’s why Jongdae went back in time.

“I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry,” Baekhyun said as he approached the door. “I don’t think I’m ready for this conversation,” he said as he put on his jacket and ran out of the building, leaving Jongdae standing in the middle of his living room, a confused expression adorning his face.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

The motel bar was empty as always and the faded US flag barely hung on the pole outside. Baekhyun wondered what it was about this place that attracted him—what made this ordinary bar the beginning and the end of the cycle. Because everything was supposed to end here, Baekhyun somehow knew that.

"Hello, yet again," he said to the older Jongdae who was already sitting on one of the barstools.

The man didn't look surprised. "What brings you here?"

"My own stupidity, why even ask?" Or maybe he was meant to go back to this bar, to help Jongdae break free.

He shrugged. "I was once in your situation too, I'm just checking whether the timeline checks out. This time it does."

Baekhyun sighed as he looked at their reflections in the big mirror behind the shelves with alcohol. "Where's  _ your _ Baekhyun, don't you have to come back to him?"

Jongdae looked taken aback, nervously playing with the button on his cuff and tapping his foot to the rhythm of music blasting from the speakers. "Oh—he isn't there anymore. I don't think I'm breaking anything when I tell you this. If the same thing happens to you—you'll know that it's the end, as grim as it sounds." He shifted his eyes at the counter, looking so very fragile. Baekhyun couldn’t bring himself not to care, the man looked the same, talked the same as a person very close to him. "I'll try to deny it but deep down, I'll know it too."

"Honestly, knowing everything that's happened to us, you've just changed the timeline or something."

"Maybe, it doesn't matter. I wanted to go back and relive everything, but it made me realize that I simply can't. As dumb as it sounds, you aren't  _ my _ Baekhyun. Not from the moment I decided to intervene." 

"And you aren't  _ my  _ Jongdae." 

He laughed. "Good, I wouldn't want to fuck up your future even more because of my selfish reasons." The sad smile he gave him almost made Baekhyun tear up.

"I'm on my way to do it myself," he said, his voice breaking. Fuck. 

"You aren't, you're going to get through it, I'm sure of it." 

Baekhyun took his time to look at Jongdae, to truly appreciate the look of sheer confidence in his eyes. He didn't... feel anything for this man, he didn't—love him the way he loved Jongdae, his sweet, caring Jongdae from 1996. It wasn't the same. 

But he knew this man loved  _ him _ , this, unsure of himself, messy and deeply cynical version of Baekhyun from 1996. He had loved this version of him long ago, maybe he still did, no matter how deep down. It felt reassuring to know that.

"You can't tell me how, can you?"

"I mean—I didn't sign a contract or anything. I just visited a bar and got transported back to 1995, there can't be a less informal way of time travel. It wouldn't feel right though, to tell you about this—how to get through this. There’s no cheat code, sometimes you just need to admit to your own faults."

"Why are you here then?" Baekhyun asked. It was the only thing on his mind, the only topic he could focus on at that moment. He had asked this question many times before, but this time he felt he'd get his awaited answer.

Jongdae laughed in his typical worn-out way, he sounded like a broken record, infinitely repeating the only sound he knew. “As insane as it might sound—”

“Oh, trust me, you filled your insane quota the second time you met me and told me you knew my real name. And it’s been only getting worse since then.” Baekhyun sipped on his beer, it was true though. 

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, flashing a hollow smile. “As insane as it might sound, I had a dream, Baekhyun, the night you died, and in that dream, someone—something, told me that we deserve our last goodbye. I didn’t have a chance to do that, not with you. You were taken abruptly from me, without a proper warning or a way to come to terms with the fact that you’re gone. I can only mourn you, and God, I don’t think that’s ever going to be enough.

“I can’t move on without a proper goodbye, it won’t be enough, not for you. I guess—this must be it then. I came here, to Fairview, to return the only thing left of you that should stay here—”

“The portrait,” Baekhyun said, tears already trailing down his cheeks. 

“Yes, my portrait, it belongs here. People told me to keep it, but I can’t… I can’t be reminded every day of the way you saw me, Baekhyun. It hurts, it hurts so much because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see the beauty you saw—still see—in me… And it makes me feel like I’ve failed you—that’s the last thing I want to be reminded for the rest of my life.

“I want to believe that I’ll see you again, in heaven or in a different life, but I think this is it, this is what we get. The last time I’ll see you. I can't keep doing this, Baekhyun. It pains me more than I can possibly stand. Goodbye, I hope wherever you are there’s nothing to fear.”

Baekhyun sobbed, a wailing sound escaping his mouth, and yet, it didn’t feel like enough. There was no catharsis, no release, crying wouldn't fill the growing hole in his chest. He couldn't imagine the suffering Jongdae had to go through, the mourning, the funeral, sorting through his things to decide what to keep. What about the other paintings? Did he keep them so he could have something left of him?

Baekhyun put his head on his folded arms resting on the bar and tried to calm down.

It wouldn't have hurt so much if he didn't hear it from Jongdae himself, which made it so much worse. But he saw the misery, he could feel the grief, it overpowered him, made him choke on the air with his loud sobs.

He felt someone tap him on the shoulder, he looked up, his vision blurry with tears. It was Jongdae,  _ his  _ Jongdae. Baekhyun wanted to disappear, he felt somehow ashamed to let Jongdae see him in this state. He didn't feel like he deserved to be comforted. Jongdae's arms wrapped around him, making him stay and confront his feelings. 

Baekhyun sobbed harder, burying his face in the crook of Jongdae's neck. At least he was wearing a better cologne this time. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

"You won't tell me what happened, will you?" Jongdae asked, sounding defeated. Baekhyun hated that he made him react this way. This was the right time to try to fix it.

Baekhyun took a deep breath inhaling the chilly evening air while sitting on a windowsill of a nearby shop outside. He craved a cigarette to calm his nerves, but it would be pointless. Coming back to an unhealthy habit wouldn’t help him in any way. 

"As you know, I have a habit of getting moody when I drink, especially after receiving bad news,” he laughed bitterly. “My old friend—his spouse died recently, he called me earlier today and told me that he’s… done with the cleanup. 

“His husband—he was an artist like me, I never knew him very well, but I could relate to him, you know? He was someone I aspire to be. My friend told me that he donated a very personal painting from his collection—he couldn’t stand the thought of looking at it every day.”

He felt the tears rolling down his face again, his eyes burning, Jongdae tried to dry them with his sleeve.

“I understand him, somewhere deep down, he must be going through hell, but I’m at such a loss, Dae. Is this what we leave behind? A few good memories and a handful of items that hurt to look at?”

Jongdae embraced him again, his breath shaky like he was about to start crying too. “The way I see it is that people never forget how you made them feel, whether through your actions or your creations. And that spark won’t leave them, they’ll pass it on, again and again. I think—that’s what we leave behind, our intentions. Or karma, some form of energy, whatever you want to call it—good deeds maybe. I’ll never forget how  _ you  _ made me feel, that will always stay with me,” he said and went silent. 

"Dae?"

"Yes, Baek?" 

"Remember that Polaroid I took of you at the gig?"

"The flower one?"

_ Breathe in, breath out, Baekhyun. _

"Yeah. I'm using it as a reference to paint your portrait," he confessed. "I'm sorry for leaving you that night in November. It was a mistake, I knew back then it was a mistake, but I still did it. And my reasons aren’t important." 

"It hurt to see you go. I mean, I didn't know you well but it still did. But it was kind of expected, I was anticipating it that night. What hurt more was you not reaching out to me. I didn’t know whether something happened to you or you had changed your mind? Maybe I’d done something wrong? I was baffled.”

“It’s easier to drift apart than to put in the effort to confront your fears, I guess,” Baekhyun told him.

"What were you afraid of?" 

"Of getting attached—falling for you," he confessed. "I'm still so paralyzed by the mere thought but it's too fucking late, isn't it?" 

"Listen, you're the one sniffling into my sleeve," Jongdae said, drying out his own tears. "You should know, you came to me on your own, no one forced you." He smiled sincerely at him despite his somewhat harsh words. "Look up, Baekhyun." 

The April sky illuminated by tens of meteors passing through it every minute, just like in November when they first met.

"I'm so scared of everything, always, but not with you, Jongdae. You muffle that part of my brain, not completely, but enough for me to see it. And it weirds me out even more. Fuck, I'm not making any sen—"

"You can be a lot sometimes, Baekhyun, and often I don’t know how to respond to the things you say to me. But you're not a burden, not to me, not right now, not ever. Remember that." He laid his head on Baekhyun's shoulder. "But please, enjoy the moment for now. It's too beautiful to miss." 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Jongdae pulled up his car right before the entrance to their apartment building. 

“How did you know I was in Fairview?”

“A hunch.” Jongdae shrugged. “Besides, I called Sehun and asked whether there was a very sad-looking man sitting by the bar. He said  _ yes _ .”

He stopped himself from glancing at his reflection in the elevator mirror, he knew his eyes were red, puffy and the smudged eyeliner made him look like a raccoon. At least raccoons were cute, he told himself. 

"Dae? Do you have to go to work tomorrow?" he asked, glancing at his easel standing in the corner of the living room.

"No? I mean—yes, but I can work remotely. I can use my fax machine for something other than sending you  _ cheer up _ notes." 

"I have an idea then," Baekhyun laughed. "Do you want me to try painting you again? I can’t stop thinking about it." He smiled. 

The prospect of falling asleep was terrifying to him. What if everything was still broken? What if when he woke up Jongdae would disappear? Just like the ghost of his future self.

The spark in Jongdae's eyes only reassured Baekhyun in his idea. "Will you complain that I blink too much?" He smiled, opening the door to the apartment.

“I can’t promise miracles.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun proudly looked up at their half-done creation. The sun hadn't even risen but even in the harsh artificial light, the portrait looked halfway decent. 

"Wake up or I'm gonna paint your face," he threatened Jongdae who was falling asleep on the couch, Mongryong curled up beside him. 

"If your original idea is a Hitler ‘stache, tough luck, there are already pictures of me like that," he grumbled into a cushion, his eyes still closed. “I’m gonna ask it now, because if I don’t I never will… Why did you move here, Baek. Why did you choose this city of all places?”

“Do you really want to know?” he laughed bitterly, glancing at the painting—the flower was almost done, he couldn’t say the same about Jongdae’s face. 

"Baekhyun—"

"Funny thing," he cut in. "It's not the name I was given at birth."

Jongdae opened his eyes, he didn't look fazed. "I know? You showed me your old driver's license," he reminded Baekhyun. "It has your name written on it." 

Baekhyun felt so fucking dumb, he pressed his palms to his face. "I'm such an idiot, holy shit." He started laughing. 

"I mean, if you thought this was some kind of secret, then yeah, a little bit," Jongdae said cracking up a smile. 

"Okay, I guess I need to come clean about all of my melodramatic bullshit now," Baekhyun began in a self-deprecating way, making Jongdae scowl. He realised what Jongdae meant when he said that he could be so cruel to himself. "I'm almost perfectly sure I'm reported missing in the state of California." 

"Wait, what?" 

"I didn't tell  _ anyone _ I was moving to Portland, in fact, I didn't know I was moving here! I got in my car, drove away and somewhere along the way you found me," he confessed, combing through his growing out hair. "Do you know it's perfectly legal to disappear out of your volition? If you're an adult, there's nothing anyone can do. Even if the police find you, you can refuse to allow them to contact your family." 

Baekhyun couldn't comprehend the look of pure discomfort on Jongdae's face.

"Why would you do that?" he asked as he moved closer to him.

Baekhyun frequently asked himself the same thing, but growing up in the 80s surrounded by  _ stranger danger _ campaigns didn’t help his twisted logic. He remembered the PSAs, the inflated statistics, the faces of missing children printed on milk cartons. And while he wasn’t a kid anymore, the feeling that people would start caring for him if he vanished stayed with him well into adulthood. 

"I felt bored, tired with everything and everyone—I don't know, I can't explain it now but it seemed like the only logical thing to do at the time. Same thing when I left you in Fairview." He laid his head on Jongdae's chest. "I don't even fucking know anymore." 

"I—I want you to know that I'm neither angry nor disappointed in you," Jongdae said firmly. "I'm—I think I'm heartbroken that a man I love felt so hopeless that this seemed like the only option," he confessed.

Baekhyun softly gasped upon the realization of what Jongdae had just said. "I love you too." His heart was bumping in his chest like the pendulum swinging in a grandfather clock. He'd convinced himself that he would never utter those words to Jongdae. It was a lie, just like a lot of things he told himself on a regular basis.

"Third time's the charm." 

"When did you get over him?"

"After we first met when I got back to work and the reality settled in—I looked at Junmyeon and the only thing going through my mind was that he wasn't you. He wasn't what I wanted anymore." 

Baekhyun exhaled deeply, his chest feeling tight. "I've spent all my life wondering whether I'm doing the right thing and most of the time I arrived at the conclusion that I'm not," he began, his voice cracking, "but I wish I told you sooner. Jongdae, you make me feel so brave like I'm not making a mistake. You can't be a mistake."

"You're not a mistake either, Baekhyun.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“Would you cut my hair if I asked you to?” Baekhyun asked as he turned on the coffee maker.

“I’m genuinely touched by how much you trust me, especially considering that I’m not sure I can cut my own hair, let alone yours.”

“If we fuck up I can always shave it off completely, I don’t think I would look that bad.” He gave Jongdae the cup. 

“Can you not try to self-sabotage before my best friend’s wedding, please.”

“What does Minseok have to do with my hair?”

Jongdae arched one of his eyebrows. “Because you’re coming with me and I want the pictures to look nice? I admit it's a little selfish, but you know, let me have a moment, okay?" 

Baekhyun felt like he was drilling a hole in the floor with the way he looked at it. "Wait, I'm invited?" 

"Yes? I'm Junmyeon’s best man and you're my plus one?"

"I'm your plus one?" 

"How can you be so capital ‘D’ dumb sometimes?" Jongdae screamed in frustration, the sound making Baekhyun laugh. "Don't laugh at me, you're the idiot! You’re laughing at yourself!" 

“I didn’t realize you wanted me to be at the wedding!” Baekhyun explained, still trying not to laugh.

“How even? Baekhyun, we live together, hell, I’d go as far as to say that we’re together, right?” Jongdae looked worried.

Baekhyun nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, yes, it just didn’t cross my mind for some reason! Oh fuck, we’re taking Mongryong!” he insisted. “I won’t go without him, don’t even count on it.”

Jongdae looked into his coffee cup in disbelief. “If you can get him into a suit, or—honestly, whatever, a dress would do as well. If you can get him into something cute, I think no one would mind, they’d be delighted. Just don’t dress him up in a police officer costume, I don’t think anyone at that wedding likes cops.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“My mom used to cut my hair when I was little,” Baekhyun laughed as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, Jongdae standing behind him and holding the scissors. 

“If you want to relive your childhood I can always go to the kitchen and grab a bowl.” Jongdae smirked.

“Do you want to go to Sacramento with me?” Baekhyun cut in, making Jongdae drop the scissors on the bathroom floor with a ping.

“I—yes? Why do you want to go there? Have you left something there?” Jongdae sounded confused.

“I need to find a chair.”

“A chair?”

“Yes? You’ll get it when you see it, there’s a backstory there. I painted one of my first portraits on it and I want it back.” He took the scissors from Jongdae and cut a piece of hair at the front. “Now you have to continue.” He smiled at Jongdae.

“I hate your stupid ideas, Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t cut hair, I’m a theater major for fuck’s sake,” Jongdae mumbled as took the scissors from Baekhyun.

“It’s just for a few days, I’m gonna go to a barber once we get back here from California, alright? Blame it on a mishap with a younger cousin trying to prank me or something, no one’s gonna know it’s you. Don’t worry.” Baekhyun smiled at Jongdae in the mirror.

“You’re so dumb sometimes.” Jongdae kissed at the top of his head. “But I would have been so bored without you.”

“I love you too, Dae,” Baekhyun laughed.

“But if you’re dragging me to California with you, for a  _ chair _ of all things, you’re returning the movies from your local Blockbuster,” he insisted, trying to cut Baekhyun’s hair evenly.

“Why?” He didn’t want to part ways with this particular copy of  _ Terminator _ . 

“Closure, Baekhyun, for closure.” 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

During the 9 hour drive to Sacramento, Baekhyun decided to finally come clean about all the big and small lies he had told Jongdae during the last few months. They’d been suffocating him for months, making it difficult to even breathe. Jongdae deserved to hear the truth. 

“I tried to change my identity? Not very well, but I at least attempted to do it,” Baekhyun confessed, his eyes glued to the side window.

“I mean, I’m not happy that you lied to me—hell, that you kept lying to me,” Jongdae said without even glancing at him. “I’m hurt, Baekhyun, but I don’t hold it against you if that’s possible? I don’t want to hold a grudge forever, that’s not healthy, I know that. I’m just hurt because you’re dear to me and you lied to me knowing it, and…” he sighed. “I don’t want to keep running after you, Baekhyun. If you don’t want to stay with me, you’re free to go, always, I wouldn’t dare to stop you.”

“That’s not…” Baekhyun began, feeling his throat close tight, at this point, it wouldn’t take much to make him cry. “I don’t want to, not anymore. I don’t expect anyone to come looking for me if I decide to leave. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever expected that from anyone. You know what’s the worst thing about me running away? I was right, I was fucking right, Jongdae. No one did come looking for me, not my coworkers, family, what little friends I had, my father? No one, Dae, so believe me, I know. I’m not anyone special, I’m not someone people will sacrifice for, someone they will look for,” he said defensively and took a sip of his watery ice coffee, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Jongdae stayed silent and suddenly pulled over to the roadside, his car centimeters away from touching a road sign. Baekhyun felt his seatbelt dig into his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that, I—I didn’t express myself clearly, I’m sorry, you got the wrong impression.” Jongdae sounded and looked like he was also about to cry.

“What do you mean?”

“I’d go looking for you, Baekhyun, if you disappeared without a word. I’d try to contact you and demand an explanation, and I wouldn’t stop until I’d found you, but after that? If you explained to me why, and it was your decision, and I didn’t think I could help you in any way? I’d leave you be, Baekhyun. I’m not your harbor, I’ll never be, I’m sorry if that’s not what you’re looking for. I let people go way too easily, and that’s just how it is,” Jongdae said avoiding looking at him, his eyes already glossy and voice strained. “I’m not strong enough to fight other people’s fights for them, even yours.”

“Dae…” Baekhyun touched the back of Jongdae’s neck, forcing him to finally look him in the eye. “I’d never expected you to be. I don’t want anything from you,  _ you _ are enough. But you didn’t let me go, I know you didn’t. I literally got a threatening pep talk from Minseok during New Year’s Eve, I can read between the lines, Dae. I know you tried to get in touch with me, and I avoided you… I don’t have an excuse and I’m so sorry, I know I ignored and hurt you and it shouldn’t change anything, but I hurt myself in the process too.”

This time it was Baekhyun’s time to dry Jongdae’s tears with his sleeve as he softly sobbed.

“Fuck… I’m a mess,” he said in between short breathes.

“This conversation was coming for a long time.” Baekhyun hung over the cup holder and hugged Jongdae as tight as he could. “I’m sorry I kept avoiding it, I’m sorry I kept so much away from you.”

“But I never asked either, I didn’t want to seem intrusive…”

“Dae, I trust you more than anyone else I know, if I don’t want to answer I’ll tell you that. You’re not being intrusive—I’m the problem, you were never the problem, please don’t ever think that,” Baekhyun said, his voice shaking.

“We’re so dumb,” Jongdae laughed, the tears still streaming down his face.

“We really fucking are,” Baekhyun agreed. “I’m driving now, you’re a better driver than me, but we are dangerously close to the road sign—and I’m guessing your vision is probably pretty blurry right now.”

“Fuck you,” Jongdae laughed again, throwing his head back and exposing his neck.

Baekhyun took the chance to escape the very uncomfortable position he put himself in and stepped over to straddle Jongdae, the steering wheel right against his back.

“What are you doing?” Jongdae asked.

“Distracting you, but also reminding you that I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to go anywhere without you, Dae. I’m safe here,” he said looking at his boyfriend and began kissing his neck.

“And I’m safe with you.” He kissed Baekhyun back, tangled his hands into the longer hair at the back of his head. “Despite my shitty job with your haircut—you look hot in a mullet,” he chuckled against Baekhyun’s lips.

The shitty thing about happiness, at least in Baekhyun’s opinion, was that it made him aware how temporary everything was. Hopelessness was addicting in its radicalism—nothing could hurt him if he already expected nothing from life but suffering. It was one cogent belief he could cling to despite the world shattering around him. 

But Jongdae’s arms were like paradise, like coming home, like realizing that he was finally feeling like himself again. He’d missed himself so much. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun ran out of the Goodwill, his feet tripping on the pavement. 

“I’ve found it!” he screamed in joy. “I’ve found this fucking chair!”

Jongdae blinked in confusion. “The chair?”

“The chair!”

“Oh my God!” Jongdae got out of the car to hug him.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“You go there!”

“ _ You  _ need to return these movies!” Jongdae hissed as Baekhyun pushed the VHS tapes into his hands. “You literally changed your name, they won’t recognize you!”

“What if they do? I don’t want to pay the late fees, they must be enormous!”

“Then you’ll just run out, okay? I’ll wait here, you got this.”

The Blockbuster employee had deleted Baekhyun’s late fees a long time ago, but she appreciated that he returned the movies. 

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

Baekhyun didn’t expect that Jongdae would cry at the wedding. But he did, some would even say that he cried profusely.

Watching Minseok and Junmyeon exchange vows didn’t make Baekhyun tear up, but it made him hopeful. They didn't have to go through with anything, it wasn't even official according to the law. It was pure—just two people who love each other so much they want to show it to their chosen family. 

Jongdae sniveled. "These assholes made me cry, Baek." 

"Good, you needed a good cry." Baekhyun hugged him despite the fact that Jongdae was trying to kick him in the shin.

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

“Are you the designated driver?” a man about his age asked Baekhyun as he kneeled down to pet Mongryong.

“I—yes, not out of my volition though. I can’t drink because of my meds, so my boyfriend is taking advantage of that to get hammered. Do you need a lift?” Baekhyun offered as he continued eating from the cheese plate and occasionally feeding the dog. Mongryong seemed to be a fan of gouda.

“Sure, I wanted to take a cab, but I won’t say no.” The man nodded. “This is awkward, but… Does your dog’s name start with the letter M?”

Baekhyun laughed, remembering the IRC conversation he had several weeks ago. “Yes, his name’s Mongryong, he’s a very good boy as you can see.” Baekhyun showed off the little suit he put on him. “Do you perhaps frequent a Usenet board about time-travel?”

His eyes lit up in sudden realization. “Are you—”

“Yeah, I posted there a few times. I don’t wanna talk about it, but that one post you’re probably thinking of? That’s me.”

“Was it—you know, real? What you’ve written, I mean.” He reached for his glass of wine.

“I think you already know that, I’m holding your grandma’s dog after all.” Baekhyun beamed at the man. "Your name? And a random fact about you?"

"Kyungsoo." He hesitated. "I'm only at this wedding because I played a lead role in a musical… a year ago, and Junmyeon didn't hate me." 

"Baekhyun." He shook Kyungsoo's hand. "And I’m only here because I’m Jongdae’s boyfriend.”

“Who’s Jongdae?”

“Why are you talking about me?” Jongdae had a tendency to show up when someone barely mentioned his name. Baekhyun liked to take advantage of it. 

“Oh, you’re Junmyeon’s best man,” Kyungsoo laughed. 

“I could’ve been Minseok’s, but he chose his sister, which is kinda a bummer.” He shrugged. “But yeah, I’m here to embarrass the newlyweds as much as I can.”

“You can give them a break today. But just today.” Baekhyun gave Jongdae a kiss on the cheek as he led him to the dance floor, leaving his dog with Kyungsoo.


	8. The Epilogue

The 1995 calendar sitting on the reception desk was an obvious clue to Baekhyun that history really did repeat itself.

“First as tragedy then as a farce,” he said to himself, feeling as if those two instances were happening at once. The same receptionist as 25 years ago didn’t seem to recognize him. “I’d like to donate a painting to this motel.” Baekhyun squeezed the frame even harder than before. 

“Why?”

“I'm a local artist." He offered the man a smile. "Your walls seem a bit empty, they need some color,” he said looking at the most boring beige interior he’d ever seen. “The motel’s called _In Rainbows_ , after all.”

🖼️ 🖼️ 🖼️

The inside of the motel bar wasn't particularly crowded, maybe five or six different people sat by the tables. Baekhyun chose a stool by the bar. 

"What year is it for you?" He sat by Jongdae when Minseok went to the bathroom. 

"’95? Are lost in time and space or something?" he laughed. Jongdae was visibly uncomfortable.

Baekhyun's heart shriveled in his chest. It really was him, which sadly meant he didn't have much time. This wasn't meant to last, he was here for a reason he didn't understand himself.

"You could say that. _You_ , on the other hand, look like the biggest fashion disaster of the decade." He clicked his tongue. 

"What's your name?" 

"Baekhyun."

"Why are you here?" Jongdae asked, sipping on his beer and glancing over at the bathroom door. 

Baekhyun breathed in, forcing himself to focus, to stay in one place and not run away. He was tired of running away all his life.

"My brother's staying at this motel, he looks basically like me but minus twenty years. He's going through a rough time, could you try to cheer him up? Talk to him? I'm a busy man, I can't do it myself. Besides, he wouldn't listen," he lied to Jongdae, feeling like he was going to burst into tears at any moment. He wished he could tell him the truth but it would have been a mistake, it was better for him not to know anything. 

His Jongdae had already made it before and this is where it led them.

Younger Jongdae nodded. "Alright—I'll see what I can do." 

_Hopefully nothing_ , Baekhyun thought. This will never end, it’s not supposed to end. And just like Sisyphus rolling his rock uphill, they’ll keep meeting in the same motel bar for the rest of eternity. Until one of them can’t keep the promise.

Unless there was a way to break the loop.

"Thank you, I have to go. Goodbye..." Baekhyun said in a desperate attempt to free himself from the incoming nightmare. He noticed his palms starting to go translucent, he was vanishing. Fuck, he needed to get out of there. 

He walked out of the bar in a rush, feeling the humid air hit his skin. This was the beginning of an end, this was what he and Jongdae got. 

Baekhyun looked at the patch of grass situated on the other side of the road. A fox stared directly at him as he faded completely.

The 12th of November 1995 never happened again, Baekhyun was free and Jongdae wasn’t with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was very adamant about killing jongdae in the epilogue when I began writing this story... but now i'm not sure that's the reason he didn't keep his promise. ultimately, i'm leaving this decision with the readers bc i'm a brat who likes open endings hah  
> if you've read this far, ily. this fic is my quarantine baby, maybe that's why it gets so hopeless at times... and maybe it's because I like writing angst! that's a valid reason too. thank you for reading my rambling.  
> (also, yes, I kept referencing Greek mythology for that Sisyphus line in the epilogue...)


End file.
